


Would You Like to Watch?

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, Angst, Ball-gag, Being a Brat, Bondage, CBT, Dominance, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Hair Pulling, Hurt, Johnlock - Freeform, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mask, Nipple Clamps, Pain, Plugs, Relapse, Rods, Sensory Deprivation, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Submission, Vanilla, blindfold, cock-ring, educational punishment, ropes, topping from the botton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Mycroft and Sherlock spend a lot of time together when they are young. They grow up together and Mycroft teaches his brother everything. Sherlock loves Mycroft and his love is returned. Their relationship becomes incestuous. But times change and also their interest in others awakens.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter One

Sherlock and Mycroft were brothers. To the outside, they were fighting and picking on each other like mad. Both men were fantastic actors. Sherlock because he just was and Mycroft had perfected his skills being a politician, a diplomat with a perfect skillset.  
But in private they were lovers. They were lovers since forever. They were lovers since Sherlock had forced himself on his older brother back at some Holmes estate close to Oxford. He had been 15 and Mycroft 22.

All his life Sherlock had been following his older brother around. When Mycroft had to leave for boarding school Sherlock had stopped interacting with other people, including family, at all. He had stopped speaking, too. His parents were forced to hire a nanny for him and also buy another place close to Mycroft’s school.  
Mycroft actually appreciated that because he didn’t have to stay overnight which he absolutely hated. He hated dorms and collective bathrooms. It wasn’t helping that he secretly checked out other guys.  
Now he could stay at the new place, too. He didn’t mind little Sherlock follow him everywhere. He started minding the moment he brought friends home. Friends he actually wanted to shag which was almost impossible because Sherlock most of the times managed to scare them away by poisoning their food, bribing someone to call their parents about some shagging or just being an annoying brat.

Mycroft never was angry for a long time. Instead, he focused more on his little brother. He talked to him because no one else talked to Sherlock. There were other children around but no one wanted to play with him. The nannies came and went again. None made it longer than half a year until Sherlock scared them away or declared them boring. Mycroft tried to explain that he couldn’t be alone in the house without him. Five-year-old Sherlock just looked up at him.

“Why not?” It was a simple question but Mycroft had no answer. Instead, he tried to keep him busy. He gave him books about biology, about bees and plants, about trees and fishes he could find outside. Sherlock was fascinated. Soon enough they ordered him Hunters for outside, several new jackets and denims. Sherlock carried a fishing-bag around as well as boxes in which he collected the weirdest things he could find. He climbed on trees, he waded through the water and he poked the animals on the fields. He had to go to the hospital because one day he poked the bull and pulled its tail. Sherlock was lucky he got only bitten and wasn’t run over by the angry bull.  
Mycroft sat by his side until he was well enough to leave. He didn’t go to school because Sherlock wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t do anything he was told. So maybe the doctors just let him go a bit earlier because they were just happy seeing his backside. Mycroft got Sherlock a cattle-prod and a camera. Sherlock was happy and absolutely not crestfallen after the incident with the bull.

He had shown no interest in riding until Mycroft did. Sherlock was nine and Mycroft sixteen until they got their horses. Sherlock was fascinated by the gear it came with such as a riding-crop, a harness and lots of good smelling leather. They rode for hours through the landscape and over the fields. Their parents happily paid for the horses because it kept Sherlock from destroying the house.  
One day Mycroft found Sherlock beating the crap out of a dead animal. He watched him for a bit and waited until he needed to breathe.

“What are you doing?” He asked and Sherlock looked over his shoulder.

“I want to see if dead meat can bruise.” Mycroft raised a brow and just let him experience since no one was harmed.

The day Sherlock had his room explode was also Mycroft’s last day at boarding school. He was supposed to go to university. Their parents bought a new house close to it. By now Sherlock was old enough to stay at home and take care of himself. Mycroft came home after his studies and food and everything was delivered every day.

Mycroft never brought someone home again. His only occupation was to take care of his younger brother who openly adored him. He was the only one he would listen to. So, one day when Mycroft got home and found Sherlock resting in a hammock with a dog, he was shocked. Whose dog was that? It looked ghastly, beastly, and big.

Sherlock’s head hung over the edge and he stroked through the dog’s fur. A smile came upon his face.

“Redbeard, this is Mycroft, my brother. I told you about him. Go and see him!” And he poked him. The dog obviously was older already and almost fell off the hammock. Slowly, very slowly it walked over to Mycroft who crouched on the lawn. It sniffed his offered hand and even licked it. Mycroft gently stroked over the head and the dog fell to the ground and was sleeping again.

“Sherlock, where did you steal the dog from?” Mycroft seriously asked placing his bag on the wooden table. Sherlock looked at him from upside down swinging wildly by now.

“I didn’t steal it. I found him. He was limping. He has no collar. I adopted him. I named him Redbeard.” He looked proud and even sat up while talking.

“It’s all fine. Just be nice to him. Don’t use him for experiments. Don’t kill him.” Mycroft was very serious. Sherlock slowly got out of the hammock and walked over to him.

“I would never do such a thing, Myc.” He almost looked sad.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sherlock. I am sorry.” He held out his arms and Sherlock moved up to him. They hugged and Sherlock rested his head against his chest.

“I already altered the shopping-list to get food for him. And I found him some toys on the attic.” Sherlock was proud of himself and Mycroft adoringly looked at him. He didn’t ask how he managed to get up on the attic.

***

Years passed and Sherlock never went to boarding-school but was taught at home. After he had burnt down two chemistry labs, annoyed every single teacher, and outsmarted them, too, no school would take him anyway. Sherlock didn’t mind. He was used to being alone and he couldn’t act among humans like Mycroft did. That was the only difference. Mycroft wanted to have a proper job to be on his own and Sherlock just didn’t care. He had no idea what he wanted to do except for being with his brother.

While getting older Mycroft of course had his experiences with other men and women. He only tried women a few times and never again. He preferred men. Soon he also knew what really turned him on and what didn’t.  
He already earned a lot of money and had been hired by the government by the age of 21. Soon he was a member of diplomatic circles and his parents were proud of him.

Sherlock wasn’t interested in sex at all. But Sherlock was jealous because he knew what his brother was doing in London. He wasn’t actually studying in the library. He was visiting some scary clubs and fuck through the people there. It took Sherlock some time and hours of watching the illegally taped films until he finally understood. Mycroft was experimenting, too. But still, he was jealous.

It took Sherlock almost seven months until he broke down. He was in Mycroft’s flat in London and cried his heart out. His brother had gone out and left him behind. He believed he was fast asleep. Instead, he had been listening to his activities. He had hidden microphones and cameras everywhere in Mycroft’s things. And tonight, it was just too much. What he saw, what his brother did to these men, and obviously liked, it was too much to bear.

When Mycroft came back that night, he checked on Sherlock. He had always done that and would always do. He quietly opened the door and only then heard the faint sobbing. Quickly he moved up to the bed.

“Sherlock, are you hurt? What happened?” But Sherlock didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled the blanket over his head. Mycroft knew what that meant and took it off his face.

“Talk to me!” It was then that Sherlock came up and threw himself into his embrace. He cried a lot that night and so did Mycroft. But he told him everything. His hands were touching his brother and Mycroft’s hands were touching back. But then he grit his teeth and moved away.

“Sherlock, don’t. This is not right and you know it.” Sherlock looked up at him and slowly tilted his head.

“Common rules are not made for us, brother-mine.” Mycroft swallowed.

“You are right. But this is something else.” Sherlock just looked at him.

“Please understand. It’s just not right.” Mycroft just whispered while Sherlock shuffled closer.

“I know exactly what you want, what you need, brother-mine.” Sherlock whispered now, too. He opened his nightstand. He pulled out a rope and several sorts of scarfs and napkins. He placed everything in Mycroft’s lap who sat in his armchair by now.  
Beneath his bespoke suit, Mycroft was hard. The fantasy alone, doing this with Sherlock, was almost too much.

“Sherlock, no …” He shook his head.

“You don’t mean that.” Sherlock’s lips were so close to his ear and his eyes fluttered close.

“I’ll do anything you want, Myc. Anything. I need you. I want you. And I do know what I am talking about. I have seen everything.” He dared and sucked his earlobe.  
Suddenly Mycroft was tense and still. Then he pushed his younger brother away. He stumbled and fell on his back. The air was forced out of his lungs and he made a noise. He also knew he would bruise. He didn’t mind. Instead, he stayed put and just got up on his elbows.

“What did you just say?” Mycroft stood and towered over him. His hands were fisted into his shirt and hair. Sherlock wasn’t afraid of Mycroft so he dared and looked into his eyes.

“You heard me perfectly well. I have you on film and audio. I want that, too. Please?” He begged with his lips moist and parted. Mycroft’s cock twitched and he closed his eyes again.

“You have no idea what you are talking about.” Mycroft shook his head.

“But I do!” Sherlock interrupted him. Mycroft once shook him and he closed his mouth again.

“Just tell me one thing now. Are you still a virgin?” They locked eyes and after a few seconds, Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, I am. I only waited for you to finally get ready.” Then he blushed and cast his eyes. But Mycroft smiled.

“Ever so impatient.” He sighed.

“But still, I don’t know. I possibly can’t shag my baby-brother …” He slowly shook his head and let go of his sibling. Sherlock got up and started to undress. When he was fully naked, he knelt between his brother’s legs. He pulled him forward by them and Mycroft was too surprised to do anything, to stop him.

“I not only watched you receiving, but I also watched porn on tape. So never mind. I can do it. Oh, and I also practised on several cucumbers and bananas.” He grinned up at him and reached for his zip.

“What? No! Stop it at once!” Sherlock kept kneeling straight up but stilled looking up at him.

“As you wish. Sir. Or do you prefer another honorific? Such as _Master_ or _My Leash_?” Sherlock’s grin was smug. Mycroft decided to teach him a lesson. He grabbed some strands of Sherlock’s longish curls and pulled him close. Sherlock hissed and tears welled up.

“If you really had been watching everything you didn’t pay much attention, did you, little brother? Or would you like me to call you slut, whore or bitch?” He shook him by his hair but Sherlock took it.

“Teach me, please! I only want you! I want no one else! Only you!” He stared up at him and his palms were flat on his thighs.

“Sherlock, you are not even of age.” His fingers started to scratch over his head now and Sherlock slowly closed his eyes leaning in.

“Age is irrelevant. I do consent. No one knows or bothers anyway.”

“I honestly don’t know if I can do this …” Mycroft shook his head but didn’t let go. Sherlock looked at him again.

“Oh, but I do …”


	2. Chapter Two

That day and night nothing happened between the brothers except that they shared a bed together. Sherlock huddled close and slept through the night which was a rare thing. Mycroft let him because it felt nice.  
They returned to the countryside for an extended weekend. Only then Mycroft very seriously talked to Sherlock. He tried to explain everything what he was up to and demanded to be handed all the films and audio Sherlock had collected. He was given a whole fucking box.  
Mycroft showed him old pictures and books of the things he did. Sherlock was excited. Mycroft even noticed his raging hard-on. He was a teenager. He wasn’t of age. Wasn’t of age.

***

He looked at the running Sherlock chasing after the poor old Redbeard who wasn’t able to run anymore. But he still liked to play with Sherlock even though he had no teeth left to gnaw on the sodden tennis-ball. Mycroft smiled. Besides Redbeard, he was probably the only person Sherlock loved.

That night they were having dinner together. Mycroft could feel that Sherlock was very excited. They had finally agreed on doing it. They wanted to do it tonight. Mycroft would be sleeping with his baby-brother. Even though Sherlock insisted on not being called _baby_. Well, Mycroft had other names for him.

Tonight, though he would be making love to him. It was Sherlock’s first time and Mycroft would rather kill himself but tie him to his bed and have a fuckfest or even hurt him on purpose. No, tonight would be special and Mycroft really looked forward to it.  
When they were having dinner, Mycroft watched his younger brother.

“Sherlock?” His head came up.

“Yes?” He asked rather carefully. He obviously was afraid that Mycroft could change the plans for tonight.

“Did you do what I told you?” Sherlock wondered if he had missed something.

“I believe so?” Very carefully worded.

“I asked you to take a bath and clean yourself out for me.”

“Oh! Yes, I did that.” Sherlock relaxed again.

“Very good. Let’s get comfy on the sofa first.” Mycroft suggested and Sherlock stood right away. Mycroft made him pour drinks and he even offered half a tumbler to him. Sherlock took it licking his wonderful lips.

“Come here, please?” Mycroft watched him settling down. Without being asked Sherlock nestled into his side and closed his eyes. Mycroft placed his hand on his skinny body and was able to feel his ribs.

“You need to eat more, Sherlock. Really, I am serious.” Sherlock hummed.

“Eating slows me down, Myc. You should know it.” He only murmured.

“But with the upcoming activities, you need more energy. I don’t want you to pass out on me. It’s such an awful feeling. It would scare me a lot.”

“I won’t pass out on you.” Sherlock sounded very sure and it made Mycroft smile. Beneath his hand, he could feel Sherlock’s heartbeat.

“Are you excited?” Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, I am. I know you will make it so good for me. I will never want anyone else in my life.” Sherlock whispered.

“Oh, don’t say that now, Sherlock. You never know …” Mycroft rested his chin on his head and held him tight.

“I do know.” They smiled. They kept sitting there for a while until Mycroft nudged him to get up. Sherlock stretched and stood. Expectantly he looked down at Mycroft who felt rather content by now.

“Please?” Sherlock said and held out his hand. Mycroft knew he barely used the word and he was moved. He stood and took his hand. Together they walked upstairs and into his bedroom. Sherlock at once wanted to undress but Mycroft stopped him.

“No, let me.” Sherlock’s arm hung loose and Mycroft stepped up. Very slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it. Gently he moved his palm over his chest and stomach. He then opened his trousers and pulled the zipper down.

“You are hard for me …” He pulled the trousers down and had him step out of them. He helped him with his socks, too, and then only his boxers were left.

“You are the most beautiful creature, Sherlock.” Sherlock blushed and wouldn’t look at him but Mycroft was able to see his small smile. And it was enough.  
Gently he placed his palm on his brother’s groin and he twitched and made a low noise. Then he pulled his boxers down until Sherlock stood there all naked. Mycroft looked at him. He really looked at him. Suddenly Sherlock looked up and into his face. Slowly his eyes moved south but the pricey cut of Mycroft’s trousers made sure there was nothing to see.

“Aren’t you?” Slowly Mycroft took Sherlock’s hand and placed it on his groin and again with the smile.

“Oh … I wondered …” Mycroft smiled.

“I know because you always do.” They looked at each other and Mycroft’s love for his brother was in his eyes. Sherlock’s love was radiating off of him.  
Mycroft pulled him against his body and held him. They were almost the same height by now and Sherlock only needed to tilt up his head a little bit. Their lips almost touched and they breathed against each other’s mouth. Sherlock just waited and didn’t make a move. Mycroft was just a bit surprised that his brother was able to show such patience but it probably depended on the subject.  
Finally, Mycroft moved his lips over Sherlock’s and he felt him relax. He gently kissed him and Sherlock sighed opening his mouth. His arms came up and around his brother’s waist. Mycroft started to use his tongue and explored everything that was there to be explored. He simply snogged Sherlock’s face off.

***

Minutes later both men parted and were out of breath. Sherlock had a sweaty forehead and his pupils were blown. He clung to his brother and looked just happy.

“Come …” He roughly said and pulled Mycroft over to the bed. Mycroft undressed then, too, and Sherlock watched him out of wide eyes. And when he finally was naked, he grabbed Sherlock and picked him up. He carried him around the bed and gently placed him on the silky sheets.  
Sherlock was looking a bit annoyed but Mycroft liked it. He climbed right after him and started to kiss him again. But now he also touched him.  
Sherlock was confused. He had expected something else. He wondered about toys and ropes and other such things. Instead, there were only his brother’s hands on his body and they were so tender and they felt so good. It almost made him cry. So, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the moves and opened some more rooms in his mind-palace he had just lately created. One room had been reserved for the wild sex with Mycroft. Now he had one more with vanilla. He wondered if he ever needed it again.  
But so far, he wasn’t bored. He was waiting for something, anything, to happen. And he trusted Mycroft with his life. He would follow him wherever he wanted this to go.  
Suddenly he felt Mycroft’s long fingers around his cock and he yelped and opened his eyes. They locked eyes when his brother looked up at him with his dick stuck inside his mouth. He slowly started to lick and suck and Sherlock’s head fell back on the pillow. He groaned and spread his legs a bit.  
Mycroft hummed around it and Sherlock was able to feel the vibrations. His body shook and trembled but he didn’t feel bad. It was nice. And everything Mycroft did with his free hand was wired directly to his cock.  
The feeling of his brother’s lips around his prick was precious and wonderful. The hotness, the wetness, made him want more. Right then Mycroft started touching his balls and by now he openly groaned. His hands fisted the sheets and his head lolled over the pillow. He was almost overthrown with passion and lust and it was so, so good.  
Soon Mycroft’s finger poked on his perineum and his legs twitched.

“Talk to me, Sherlock. How does it feel?” Sherlock swallowed and cleared his throat.

“It feels great. I feel great. It’s amazing. I never have felt anything remotely fantastic. You are wonderful …” He sighed and looked at Mycroft out of hooded eyes. Mycroft grinned around the head of his dick and pressed his tongue into the slit. Now Sherlock shouted out loud. Mycroft was pleased with his reaction. It was normal. He was acting normal in bed.  
He kept on massaging behind his testicles and soon moved his finger between his cheeks and over his hole. For a second Sherlock tensed when being touched there but then he relaxed. His muscle was loose in mere seconds and Mycroft was able to penetrate him. For Sherlock, it felt alien to have something in his arse. But it also was nice. It burnt just a little bit but he knew what to expect so he just waited it out.  
Mycroft was very surprised at how good he took it. Very soon he had the whole finger inside and crooked it. He knew where to look and found Sherlock’s prostate. Very slowly he moved his fingertip around it and heard Sherlock’s breath hitch. He stilled for five seconds, felt Sherlock waiting, and then pressed down.

Sherlock yelled, hit the sheets, and bucked up. His cock ended up stuck in his throat and he swallowed. He managed not to cough but swallow and felt Sherlock come down his throat. He took it and let go of him afterwards. But his finger stayed where it was because he wasn’t done yet. So was Sherlock. He still was half hard. He was a teenager.

Sherlock came up on his elbows and stared at him. He got up, too, licking his lips.

“Don’t stop now, Myc. Please? This is … I don’t know what this is …” He shook his head and fell back again. He pulled his long legs up and let his knees fall to the side. Mycroft’s finger was still inside his behind.

“Don’t you worry, Sherlock, I won’t. Just let me know if it’s getting too much.” Sherlock snorted.

“Promise!” Mycroft demanded.

“Promise …” Sherlock answered.

“Do you think you can take two?” Sherlock just snorted again and spread his legs some more. Mycroft moved up and knelt between his legs.

“Perhaps you are a bit too sluttish for a teen …” Mycroft kissed his knee and pulled a bit out. Two fingers returned and he didn’t even need lube for him. He was just open. He welcomed him. He wanted him.

“I am no slut!” Mycroft pressed down and Sherlock moaned very wantonly.

“Is that right?” Mycroft grinned and fiercely rubbed over his nub. Sherlock started to yell the house down and tore a pillow apart. Mycroft was aroused and excited, this was just perfect.

After more than half an hour later he had four fingers deep into his brother’s behind. They were both sweaty and hard and Sherlock kept begging. Mycroft decided he was ready and pulled out. Only then he took the lube from his nightstand and slicked his cock very thorough.  
Sherlock watched him out of hooded eyes. His legs trembled. Mycroft placed his hands on his knees and kissed the inside of each thigh. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. Slowly his head fell back again.  
Mycroft lined up and touched his still fluttering hole. The head of his fat cock pressed against it and it still needed some force to push inside. Sherlock let out a faint groan but didn’t show any sign of distress.  
Soon enough Mycroft hands were on both sides of Sherlock’s torso and he kissed him again while rotating his hips very slowly. Sherlock picked up on his moves and held on to him. He let out passionate noises and suddenly slung his arms around his brother.

“Faster, Myc, please!” Mycroft tenderly bit into his jaw.

“You will be sore, brother-dear.” Sherlock swallowed and his hands landed on Mycroft’s cheeks.

“I will be fine …” Mycroft sucked on his throat and Sherlock raked his nails down his back.

“As you wish, Sherlock.” Mycroft started to push into him faster and faster. Flesh slapped on flesh and both men were panting loudly. Mycroft made sure that he rubbed over Sherlock’s prostate with every move. Soon enough Sherlock held on tighter and shot his cum over their bodies. Mycroft looked up and into his face and that look alone made him come, too. His arms were trembling and he lowered himself down on top of Sherlock very slowly. Then there was Sherlock’s hand on his head. They locked eyes again.

“See? I didn’t pass out on you.” Sherlock looked smug. Mycroft smiled and carefully pulled out. Sherlock made a face when cum ran out of him.

“This is disgusting …”He even pulled a face.

“No, it’s not.” Mycroft used a finger and ran it through the mess. Then he looked right into Sherlock’s eyes and licked it clean. He knew that his brother was damn curious. So, he used his finger again and this time Sherlock snatched his hand leading it up to his mouth. But first he sniffed and only then his tongue carefully poked out and licked the semen off his finger.

“Interesting …” He muttered tilting his head.

“I can taste tobacco, alcohol and something else. It’s so you.” Mycroft shrugged.

“I guess it is, isn’t it? I think the third thing you are looking for is power.” He smirked and Sherlock grinned.

“How do I taste? You took an awful lot earlier.”

“You taste of tobacco, too, but also fruits and tea. It’s nice. Also, your hair smells like strawberries. Do you still use the girl’s shampoo?” Sherlock blushed.

“It’s not a girl’s shampoo. And I also shower with it. I like it.” He pouted.

“So do I.” He kissed him again and then fell back on the pillow by his side. He sighed.

“God, I am hungry …” He groaned and stretched. The same moment Sherlock’s stomach rumbled.

“Pizza? It’s the easiest thing to make. And perhaps ice-cream?” His head turned and he looked at him.

“Sounds good to me. Come on, let's freshen up a bit and bake a pizza.” Sherlock rolled out of bed and cum ran down his thigh. He quickly moved into the bath and right under the shower. Mycroft didn’t follow him but used another bathroom. The brothers dressed in comfy clothes and walked downstairs into the kitchen. Mycroft found pizza and put it into the oven. Sherlock poured red wine and they drank leaning against the counter.

It was late at night when they finally went to bed. One bed.


	3. Chapter Three

Days, weeks, and months passed and the brothers had sex whenever they could. They experimented with everything possible and Sherlock loved it. Mycroft could see some sort of addiction in that but what could he do? He wasn’t able to stop that anymore.

Years passed by and Mycroft became deeply involved in government businesses and Secret Service matters. He even had a personal assistant called Anthea or whatever she called herself. It changed on a weekly basis.

Sherlock studied several things. He never found a real job but kept following his brother. But when Mycroft had to go abroad for longer and longer, he got bored. He had no idea what to do. His brain needed something to do. Only Mycroft was able to provide help. He needed him. He needed the sex with him and only with him. He needed to shut his mind down. Only he couldn’t do that all by himself until the day he found out about the magic of cocaine and heroin. He started using whenever it became too much. 

Mycroft never found out because Sherlock always stopped in time before Mycroft was back. But then it became darker and he started to accidentally destroy things. It all ended badly when Mycroft returned earlier than planned and found his baby-brother choking on his own vomit on the bathroom tiles. His eyes were those of a person having his all-time high and he muttered weird things.  
Mycroft’s heart stopped beating for some time or so he thought. Then he fell on his knees, hard on the tiles, and rolled him on his side. He opened his mouth and used his two fingers to get the vomit out of his mouth. But he kept on vomiting all over him. And when he was done, he lost his consciousness.  
Mycroft sank back on his heels and held Sherlock tightly to his chest. He didn’t mind his soiled clothes, they weren’t important. His little brother was.  
What had happened here? Had it happened before? Why hadn’t he known? Why …?

“Oh, Sherlock, what have you done?” Mycroft cried.

***

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft who stood beside his bed and accusingly looked at him over his long nose.

“I am not promising anything. I can’t promise you anything. I need to stop my brain from wandering off and about. It’s just too much!” He tried to explain.

“Then find yourself a job!” Mycroft told him. Sherlock snorted.

“A job? Please! What could I do?” Mycroft shrugged.

“You are capable of so many things. I already offered work in Baskerville. You didn’t want that.”

“I am not wearing a uniform.” Mycroft rubbed over his forehead.

“Have you seen me in a uniform, brother-mine?” Slowly Sherlock shook his head.

“Anyway. I have another idea to offer. If it won’t work out, you will have to detox properly.” Sherlock paled. He didn’t want to detox.

“But …” Mycroft looked at him and he looked very stern.

“No, there isn’t a but anymore. You can’t do this to me, Sherlock. You make me suffer. You could have died.”

“What do you have in mind for me?” Sherlock had horrible fantasies about hard labour on a field being detained in some sort of boot-camp or something. Mycroft sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I gave it some thoughts already. I know someone important at Scotland Yard. I will talk to him. He might be able to arrange something for you.” Sherlock’s ears perked up.

“Scotland Yard?” He was interested.

“Yes. I was thinking about solving cold cases. And if you do it right, they might take you on actual crime scenes.”

“I admit that sounds fascinating.”

“Very good. But you have to be clean; both inside and outside. So, go and take care of yourself again; because right now you look like the living dead.” Mycroft stood.

“When?” Sherlock just asked and carefully sat up at the same time.

“You will need a few days to get the drugs out of your system. I am having the appointment the day after tomorrow and would arrange a first meeting for next Monday. Can you do that?” He seriously looked at his younger brother.

“I promise, Myc. I am sorry I have worried you. I saw no other way to stop the whirling in my brain. It made me mad.” He almost cried now and reached out for him. Mycroft took his hand and kissed his trembling limb.

“Come down now. It has been arranged and you just promise to work with me, OK?” Sherlock nodded and sobbed once more. Then Mycroft pulled him up and shoved him into the bath.

“When you are done here, I expect you downstairs for dinner. And I don’t want you just to sit there, I actually want you to eat something, am I understood?” Sherlock’s shoulders slumped but he answered.

“Yes, Myc.”

***

The day arrived and Sherlock stood in front of a large mirror and looked at his skinny body. Mycroft had bought him new clothes such as dress trousers and shirts, socks, and shoes and also a fantastic dark coat. Sherlock loved it. Mycroft knew that he would.

“You look fantastic, Sherlock.” Mycroft approached and hugged him from behind. Sherlock slowly turned and bowed his head so Mycroft could kiss his neck.

“I promise to behave, Myc. This promises to be good.” Their eyes met in the mirror.

“I do hope so. You know I hate to be away from you for a longer period of time. But my occupation with the British government, well, you know. I have to know that I will be coming back to you being not dead, do you hear me?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t want you to retreat from me. I couldn’t stand it if you wouldn’t love me anymore.” Sherlock’s hands were on Mycroft’s arm and they swayed on the spot.

“OK, brother-mine. Face your destiny. I am sure it will work out for you.” Sherlock obediently followed his brother out of the room and downstairs. They left the house where Anthea waited in the car to drive them to Scotland Yard. Over there they were shown into an office where Mycroft’s contact sat and also another, kind of attractive, man. Both Sherlock and Mycroft looked at him. The man looked back. He had an open face and looked kind. He already had grey hair but cut in a fancy way. And he wasn’t really that old. Mycroft and Sherlock looked at each other and knew they were thinking the same.

“ _Sexy_.”

They sat down and everything was explained. Also, the man was introduced officially.

“This is Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade from our homicide division. He has many cold cases for you to look at.” Sherlock looked at him and met open, dark brown eyes. He wondered if he knew about his addiction. It didn’t look like it.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to sort it out between yourself.” The high-ranking officer stood and looked at Mycroft.

“Would you like a drink?” Mycroft nodded and looked at Sherlock.

“ _Behave_!” His eyes said and Sherlock just nodded back.

“Please come into my office with me.” The DI stood and Sherlock followed him. He was offered a chair and looked around in the tiny room. In mere seconds he knew everything about the man there was to know.

“I have collected a few cases for you because I would like to see some of your abilities.” Sherlock quietly snorted. The man raised a brow.

“What?” He asked.

“I am sorry, nothing. Can I see?” Sherlock already reached out and the DI handed one folder over the desk for him to look at. Sherlock opened it and glanced at the content. Then he sighed.

“You can’t tell me no one was able to solve this?” He looked up.

“Please don’t make fun of me.” The DI looked clueless.

“No, I mean, it really is a cold case. Are you honestly telling me you have solved it just now?” His eyes were big and he stared at Sherlock who just shrugged.

“Yes, of course, I have. It’s rather obvious. Can’t you see?” He just shook his head.

“Well, if I could it would be solved already, wouldn’t it? So, explain, please.” He leant back into his chair and tilted his head.

“It was the man’s brother. He killed the wife because she damaged his car while driving. She didn’t tell him and tried to hide it from him. He got angry and rode her over pretending it was a drunk driver who had stolen his car. He reported it stolen, of course, but it wasn’t.”

“How could you know it wasn’t?” The DI asked.

“The pendant. On this older picture, it’s on his necklace. Now it’s amongst the evidence in the plastic. See?” Sherlock pointed it out.

“Oh …” The DI said. Then he suddenly grinned and rubbed his hands.

“Great! I love you already! Care for a pint?” He already stood and Sherlock stood, too.

“But what about the other cases? I am supposed to work here. I think it doesn’t involve drinking.”

“Never mind. Take it as a welcome present.” Sherlock couldn’t but agree. He ended up in a booth in Lestrade’s local. Sherlock waited for him to come back with something to drink. He was absolutely clueless what this was about. Lestrade returned with ale for Sherlock and placed it in front of him.

“So, Mr Holmes. Now let’s talk shop. Why did you appear right out of nothing to help us?” Lestrade looked at him over the rim of his glass.

“My brother wants me to be honest. And I will be honest to you right now. My brother has connections within the government. I had, have problems with drugs. He tries to keep me busy, occupied. If I get bored, I will use. So, the more interesting cases you can provide, the better it is for me.” Sherlock sighed and took his beer.

“I appreciate your honesty. But I have to admit I am shocked. You are a drug addict. I must be absolutely sure you are clean when taking you out on crime scenes with my team. Are you sure you are up to it?” They locked eyes.

“Honestly? Right now, I don’t know. I solved the first case you gave me within two minutes. I can only hope there is more.” Lestrade grinned.

“Loads of. Just finish those I have in my office. If that works out, there will be more. See them as a test. I need to prove your usefulness to my team, too. I think you understand that, don’t you, Mr Holmes?”

“Yes, I do, DI Lestrade. Will I have a corner where I can sit and take notes from the files? I suppose I am not allowed to take them home?” Almost hopefully he looked at him.

“Are you still living with your brother?” Sherlock nodded and Lestrade thought about it for a second.

“Well, he has a high clearance. Take them home. But as soon as you have something, you have to call me. Here, take my card.” Sherlock took it and carefully put it into his wallet.

“Thank you, DI Lestrade. I mean it. Thank you for your trust. It’s important to me.” He drank more beer.

“Never mind, Mr Holmes. I am already fascinated by your skills. Your brother didn’t exaggerate and I believe you will be a big help. I appreciate your work.” He broadly smiled and lifted his glass. Sherlock thought it must be appropriate to clink glasses and he did. Suddenly he smiled, too. He had had no idea that being together like this could be so nice. And he didn’t even meet this man before. He looked at him a bit closer. He was rather good looking. He was sexy. Mycroft thought the same. Perhaps this man could be his friend? Perhaps he also liked to be his friend?  
Sherlock took the risk after another long sip from his glass.

“Please call me Sherlock. If you like …” He looked at him and saw that he was kind of surprised.

“OK, Sherlock. Then you have to call me Greg.” They held their eyes for a bit and smiled.

***

Sherlock solved every cold case Greg had given him. His team was bloody surprised. Sherlock had come back the next day and had neatly written post-its on each folder explaining the who and why. Greg then introduced him officially to his team and Sherlock almost felt giddy. Greg soon considered Sherlock a friend. He didn’t know though if Sherlock felt the same.  
Mycroft was also very happy and had met up with Detective Inspector Lestrade to talk about Sherlock. Lestrade had told him at once that this meeting wouldn’t take place without Sherlock being present because he didn’t want to talk about him without him around. Mycroft liked the attitude a lot. He liked the Detective Inspector a lot.

After two months Sherlock moved into his first flat ever. He was so proud while pulling a box with clothes out of a car. He knocked and an old lady opened the door. He was surprised because he knew her from a case he had solved. It turned out she was the landlady. This was too good to be a co-incident but he didn’t mind. She warmly welcomed him and showed him upstairs. It was a mess up there but he liked it. It was his.  
Soon enough the chaos was complete with all his stuff in there. He had set up a small lab on the kitchen table. His bedroom was ready, too. So was the bath. He expected his brother to turn up soon to check on him. He appeared the next day when Sherlock was assembling a book-shelf.

“What are you doing, brother-mine?” He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What does it look like, Myc?” Then someone quickly moved up the stairs and dashed inside.

“I got all my tools and a six …” Then he saw Mycroft Holmes and stopped talking.

“Oh, I am sorry. I had no idea. Am I interrupting anything?” Mycroft turned to face him. He smiled.

“No, Detective Inspector Lestrade, you are not. I am just checking on my little brother.” Sherlock looked between them.

“Lestrade promised to help me with my furniture.” Mycroft was surprised. His brother had connected with the man.

“That’s very kind of him, isn’t it?” Mycroft looked as if he wasn’t interested in the whole matter at all.

“Yes, it is.” Sherlock slowly stood. Lestrade just carried his tools inside and put the beer into the fridge. He eyed the small lab but didn’t comment just yet. He started in the bath and hung up the shower-curtain. He didn’t want to disturb the brothers. Mycroft was a bit disappointed that Greg left the room and his eyes followed him. Sherlock smirked and threw a smaller screwdriver at him.

“Hey, focus!” He chided but grinned. Mycroft didn’t react to that but moved through the rooms having a look everywhere. He raised a brow when he saw the lab but didn’t argue against it. He was very pleased with the bedroom. There even was an empty room upstairs.

“Everything looks good, Sherlock. I am happy for you.” They looked at each other.

“I am happy, too. You are always welcome, Myc. Always.” Sherlock smiled.

“I am expecting a housewarming invitation when you two are done.”

“Sure. Bye now. We are busy.” Mycroft took the hint and left but he felt good. Sherlock went to look for Lestrade. He was assembling a little cupboard inside the bath.

“You may return now. He is gone.” Sherlock leant against the frame and Lestrade looked up.

“Well, I thought he wouldn’t approve of the beer. I wasn’t sure.” Sherlock grinned.

“No, it’s all fine. Thank you already.”

“Let me finish this and then we could have something to eat?” Lestrade sounded hopeful.

“Already?” Sherlock looked at his watch his brother got him.

“Just a sandwich or something?” Lestrade suggested.

“I have no supplies yet. Except for the beer.” Sherlock didn’t know where to get sandwiches or any food at all. He never had to take care of such mundane things.

“Right beneath your flat is a little café. I will go and get us something.” He stood and his bones cracked.

“Thank you.” Sherlock sometimes still was very surprised how kind that man was; both to him and in general. Lestrade soon returned with a bag full of food. And Sherlock ate because he had promised. Afterwards they kept working until the light from outside was gone. They were both sweaty but had had fun.

“I will order takeaway. What would you like?” Sherlock asked. Lestrade shrugged.

“Whatever you take.” Sherlock ordered some Chinese and Lestrade already licked his lips. They washed their hands and Sherlock paid the delivery-guy when he arrived.

“You’ve got any plates out yet?” Lestrade asked and Sherlock shook his head.

“No, assembling the lab was more important. But we can eat from the boxes since my brother isn’t here to chide me for it.” Greg grinned.

“Exactly, he isn’t here and it’s your place. And if you want to eat with your fingers, you just do it.” Sherlock looked surprised but then smiled.

“Yes, you are right. Come on, we have a sofa we can sit on.” Both men sat down and had dinner. Sherlock was really hungry because he finished everything. He even licked his lips and finished dessert. Then he cracked open his fortune cookie and read it out.

_“A short stranger will soon enter your life with blessings to share.”_

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sherlock wondered and then just shrugged it off. Lestrade followed up quickly and read his out loud, too.

 _“People are naturally attracted to you.”_

He quietly snorted. Sherlock looked up.

“But it’s the truth.” Lestrade just looked at him.

“What?” Sherlock wondered if his abilities of speech had stopped him from making career but he didn’t say it out loud because he didn’t want him to leave. Instead, he tried to elaborate.

“I have noticed people looking at you. Even my brother keeps looking at you.” Now Lestrade blushed under his tan.

“What? No, he surely doesn’t. Why would he? Nonsense!” He shook his head. But he was smiling.

“Anyway. I got us some wine to celebrate. Would you like some?” He held up the bottle and Lestrade nodded.

“Yes, sure. That’s very nice of you.” Sherlock got a pocket knife and opened the bottle. Of course, he had no glasses unpacked, so they passed the bottle between them. Somehow Sherlock had more than one bottle. Later that evening they both were totally drunk. Sherlock belched once and announced he was going to bed. He stood and swayed into the bath. When he entered his bedroom Lestrade was already there.

“If you don’t mind? The sofa is too small.” Sherlock didn’t mind. He just climbed under the blanket while Lestrade freshened up. He was asleep already when he moved to his side.

***

The next morning, they didn’t have a hangover. They were tired and very much so but no one got sick. Lestrade was just stretching his body by Sherlock’s side when Sherlock woke. Lestrade looked at him. His hair was a mop of curls and he looked adorable. He blinked his eyes open and then looked at Lestrade. Then he grinned.

“You are all ruffled up.” He pointed his finger and Lestrade grinned back.

“So are you!” Sherlock’s hands shot up and tried to flatten his hair but to no avail.

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered and slumped into the bath. Greg walked out into the living room to find his mobile. There were several missed calls and texts but nothing urgent. One text was from Mycroft Holmes.

_“Detective Inspector Lestrade, what were you doing in my brother’s bed?”  
MH_

Greg stared at his mobile. How the hell did he know they had shared a bed?

“Sherlock?” He called out when he heard him rummage in his room. He came out clad in a dressing-gown over his pyjamas and tee.

“Yes? Oh, no coffee to be had. Yet.” He looked disappointed.

“Care to explain?” He handed over his mobile and started to brew coffee. Sherlock read the text and smirked.

“He probably has cameras installed for my safety.” Lestrade looked over his shoulder.

“What? He has done what?” Sherlock just shrugged.

“He just means well.”

“Huh.” Lestrade finished preparing coffee. There was nothing to eat.

“I need food …” He whined rubbing over his stomach. Sherlock sighed.

“I’ll go.” He grabbed some money and went for the door.

“Sherlock. You are not dressed properly.”

“I am wearing a posh dressing-gown. I brushed my teeth and I am not smelly. I can go into the downstairs café and get us something.” Lestrade sighed.

“Well …” Sherlock left and hopped down the stairs. Lestrade just shook his head and rummaged through a box on which Sherlock had written the word kitchen. He found more lab equipment but he also found some mugs. He cleaned them and waited for Sherlock to come back. Then he decided to answer Mr Holmes' text. He pulled it up again and started to type.

_“We had a bit too much and I stayed. The sofa is too small for me. Nothing happened. Don’t worry.”  
GL_

He pressed _send_. It took merely half a minute for an answer from him.

_“Did Sherlock eat?”  
MH_

Lestrade smiled.

_“Yes. We had Chinese and we even opened the fortune cookies. All is well. Now he is getting us breakfast.”  
GL_

The next reply came even faster.

_“That really sounds good to me. I would like to hear more. Please meet me at my club. My PA will get in contact.”  
MH_

“What the fuck?” Greg muttered and decided to ask Sherlock. Right then said one returned with a paper bag full of goodies. Lestrade tried to have a look from where he sat but couldn’t see. But it smelled very fresh. When everything was set up and they held their mugs with coffee Greg again tried to talk about Mycroft Holmes.

“He invited me to his club. He wants to talk about you. I don’t like it.” Greg slowly shook his head.

“Why not? There will be free food.” Sherlock said matter of fact.

“He wants me to spy on you. It shows he doesn’t trust you yet.” Greg was a bit angry but Sherlock just shrugged it off.

“Do you?” And he looked at Greg.

“Yes, I do. You have done all this. You helped a lot. You are a great guy, Sherlock. You also are a brilliant detective. Perhaps you really could make a living out of it?” Sherlock straightened up.

“You think?” He asked being very much surprised.

“Oh, I absolutely do.” He nodded.

***

Weeks passed by and Dr Molly Hooper, a pathologist from Bart’s hospital who worked with NSY, had allowed Sherlock access to the morgue. He was able to perform more dangerous experiments there than at home. He had actually managed to burn the kitchen down twice. Mycroft had been furious and Mrs Hudson had hit him with a rug beater. He had been sore for several days and he had repaired everything.

He was some sort of official consultant for Scotland Yard now and had been to several crime scenes with Greg. He decided to call himself _Consulting Detective_. He told Greg who just agreed. Then he told Mycroft who just raised a brow. Sherlock was proud and felt fantastic with what he had achieved.

He never thought about the fortune cookie again until the day he met Dr John Watson. He had been beating up a corpse with his riding-crop to see if there were bruises forming after death and how long they would last. Molly had left to bring him coffee when a fellow doctor appeared with someone new. Sherlock was curious and looked over his shoulder. He saw a short man, blond, rather attractive looking and in good shape for his age. He was dressed in an awful jumper but Sherlock saw everything that was beneath it. This man was interesting. He wanted to talk to him but didn’t know how. So instead he talked to Dr Stamford.

“Mike, may I borrow your phone?” He asked sitting up straight. Inconspicuously he checked his clothes for any stains or whatever but he looked as immaculate as ever.

“Sorry, Sherlock, I left it in my bag in my locker.” He shrugged and turned to his company.

“Here, take mine.” The blond offered his mobile to Sherlock who quickly stood and strode over. Mike was surprised. Normally Sherlock made all people bring the things he wanted. This was an exception.

“Thank you.” He gave him a look and at once started to type. He kept listening in to their conversation. He had also taken a whiff of that man. It had been nice. The man was nice. He liked him.  
Suddenly Mike spoke to him again.

“Weren’t you looking for a flatmate, Sherlock?” Sherlock handed the mobile back and nodded.

“Yes, I was. But who would want me?” He half-turned away.

“That’s what my friend here said, too. This is John, by the way, and he is looking for a flat-share.”

“Oh, you have just lately returned from Afghanistan. You limp is purely psychosomatic and the tremor in your hand is PTSD. Don’t worry, it will go away. And you should fire your therapist. She is stupid.” The blond just stared at him.

“Seven pm tomorrow at my place. Will you come?” Sherlock hopefully asked.

“Come where? Who are you anyway?” The man asked and Sherlock sighed but only very quietly.

“I found myself a wonderful place in Baker Street, 221B. Oh, my name is Sherlock Holmes.” He carefully offered his hand. The blond automatically took it.

“John Watson. I am not sure if I can afford …” But Sherlock just interrupted him.

“Fine, see you tomorrow!” And gone he was. John was clueless and looked at Mike.

“Admittedly, he is a bit weird. But he is also a great chemist and detective. He often works here because he solves criminal cases. He is the smartest man I have ever met.”

“How did he know all the things about my life?” Mike shrugged.

“He always knows. He just looks at people and knows. I don’t know how he does it.” They parted and John walked home to his awful room he had found after having been sent home invalided. He carefully sat down on his bed and stretched out his hurting leg. Then he checked his mobile. He looked at what that man, Sherlock Holmes, had texted. He read the text and for him, it didn’t make sense at all. He needed to ask him tomorrow. He had decided to go and look at the place even though he wouldn’t be able to afford even only a flat-share in Baker Street but he would be able to meet the man again. He had been so good looking, and the hair, by God, the hair. John sighed and closed his eyes for a bit.  
He was mangirling. He smiled and shook his head.

***

The next day John limped across Baker Street right when Sherlock climbed out of a cab. At once he turned to him and just threw some money at the driver.

“Dr Watson, welcome!” He reached out for him and John shook his hand changing the cane to the other side. Then Sherlock let him inside and upstairs. John at once fell in love with the place but also knew he hadn’t the money for it. But Sherlock just waved it off.

“Pay what you can. It’s all fine.” John accepted. The men looked at each other. John looked through the flat again and sneezed several times due to the dust everywhere.

“I promise to dust and clean. When will you be moving in?” Sherlock followed him around and almost bumped into him when he turned around.

“I could come tomorrow. I don’t have much. So, if it’s convenient?” He looked up at him.

“Yes, it is, very much so.” Sherlock replied. Then he somehow manoeuvred John onto the sofa.

“Would you like a drink to celebrate our flat-share?” Sherlock asked holding up a bottle of red wine. John thought about it for a second and looked at the bottle. It was a very expensive wine and he liked to have it. Then he looked at Sherlock Holmes who returned his gaze open and full of hope. And John wasn’t able to deny him.

“Thanks, that’s very nice.” John leant back into the sofa and watched Sherlock getting glasses and opening the bottle. It looked very professional and he even brought some snacks.

“I have prepared them earlier because I hoped you would say yes …” He placed the plate on the coffee table and filled their glasses. John put his palm on the sofa by his side.

“Come and sit with me. If you are standing there you look like a waiter. So, please?” Sherlock quickly sat down.

“Forgive me. I really have no experiences with having someone around. So, if I am behaving weird or strange in any way you just let me know, OK? Sometimes …” Then he shook his head and sipped the wine.

“Sometimes you what?” John asked and carefully sipped, too. God, the wine was wonderful.

“Sometimes I wander around. I don’t sleep well. I work for Scotland Yard and solve their unsolvable cases.” John looked at the lab equipment on the kitchen table.

“Well, don’t set the place on fire while I am sleeping.” He openly grinned and Sherlock’s heart warmed.

“Oh, the two times that happened was between noon and night.” He shrugged and John swallowed.

“So, you are an army-doctor.” Sherlock looked at him with a questioning face. Of course, he knew that already but he wanted John to talk to him.

“Yes, I studied medicine at Bart’s and did several tours, the last to Afghanistan. I got shot and was sent home invalided.” His face darkened.

“You could be of great assistance. I often go to crime scenes and you could come along to look at the victims.”

“What?”

“I will talk to Greg about it.” Sherlock drank some more.

“Who is Greg?” John asked and Sherlock looked at him again.

“Oh, Greg is a DI at Scotland Yard, homicide division. He is a good friend and helped me a lot in the past. He also helped me make this place up. He is a good man.”

“First of all, I need to find a job to pay you the rent.” John looked serious about it.

“Yes, I will talk to my brother about it. He is able to help you with that.”

“Your brother? How?” Sherlock smiled.

“He has connections.” They looked at each other.

“Yes? So?” John asked.

“He always helped. Helps.” John shook his head and quietly laughed.

“I don’t need his help. I am very much capable of finding a job on my own.” Sherlock sensed John’s anger and was terrified he wouldn’t stay.

“I didn’t mean … I only meant … I am sorry. Please don’t leave again?” He stared into John’s eyes.

“I won’t leave you since I haven’t even properly moved in. Just don’t force something on me, OK? I don’t even know your brother.” John sipped his wine and looked at Sherlock over the rim. He saw him relax.

“It wasn’t my intention to force something on you, John. I only wanted to help. And he can help, you know?”

“I am sure he can but I will try myself first. If it doesn’t work out, I will get back to you.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock said not looking at him.

“What for?” John asked.

“For staying.” Sherlock answered after a few seconds. John smiled.

“This is such a wonderful place. I like it. I won’t give it up again after I have just found it. And you …” Now John shook his head. Sherlock didn’t look up but his cheekbones were covered in a fine shade of red.

“And me?” He finally dared to ask.

“You are special.” John said laughing touching his shoulder. And Sherlock tensed. John sensed that something was wrong and let go.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be inappropriate.”

“You are not. It’s not your fault. It’s just, I can’t …” Sherlock shook his head and looked very sad. He only ever had been touched by his brother. There only ever had been Mycroft. But he liked John. Why wouldn't he allow him to touch?

“Damn it!” John thought. He had no one he could ask about this man. Something must have happened to him in the past. Now he had to calm him down again.

“Come here and have some chocolate. It will be good for you. It’s always good for you.” He took the plate with nosh and offered it to Sherlock. His hand crept forward and he took a piece. And he ate it very slowly. Then he sank back into the sofa and drank his wine.  
John stood after another half an hour and placed his glass in the kitchen.

“Thank you so much for everything. I’ll be back tomorrow. Can’t wait!” He smiled broadly and Sherlock showed him out. They only shook hands.  
Sherlock felt good after John had left. He knew he would be back. He collected his glass and the plate which was empty by now and carried everything into the kitchen. Then he cleaned it and left it to dry. When he left the kitchen, his eyes fell on the fortune cookie paper that Greg had pinned on the fridge and Sherlock had forgotten about it. He tilted his head and read it again.

_“A short stranger will soon enter your life with blessings to share.”_

“Only what will be the blessings?” Sherlock thought shaking his head. He went to bed feeling very good.

***

That night John packed his few belongings and waited until morning. He took his last money and called a cab. He rode over to Baker Street. He looked up and saw Sherlock standing there. He waved and Sherlock left the window. A few seconds later he opened the door and looked at him and his three boxes.

“That’s it?” He asked. John nodded not looking at him. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, that’s my life in three boxes.” Sherlock looked at him in a very thoughtful manner and then just grabbed one box. John took another one and when he was only halfway up Sherlock ran downstairs again to pick up the third and last.

“Where do you want them?” Sherlock asked John.

“If you don’t mind, for a second down here until I am done measuring the room upstairs.” Sherlock handed over a piece of paper with all the measurements.

“It came with the flat and I double-checked it. The numbers are absolutely correct.” John just stared. Then he took the paper.

“That’s a nice surprise, thanks a lot. You know I wanted to go and buy a wardrobe and such.” Sherlock smiled.

“You should go and see where to put it. Go!” He pointed up the stairs. John raised his brow but walked into his new room. He opened the door and his eyes widened. The room had been freshened up. There was a bed, a wardrobe, a carpet, a desk with a chair as well as curtains and even flower-pots on the window-sill. He turned around and looked at Sherlock who looked all innocent.

“Did you do all this?” John asked with a rough voice. Sherlock shrugged.

“I had it arranged, yes. I did buy the flowers though. I thought you might like it.” They locked eyes and somehow John couldn’t help himself, he was so moved. He pulled him into his arms.

“Come here, you lanky git. Thank you!” He once patted his back and let go again at once. Then he once wiped over his eyes. Sherlock didn’t know what to do and say. He just stood there.

“So, you like it?” He finally asked making John look up.

“I love it. This is very nice. It is also unexpected. You shouldn’t have done this, it’s too much.” John looked at all the things.

“I want you to feel good in here. I want to do it right for once.” John didn’t comment on that.

“You know what? I will cook tonight. I will cook us a welcome dinner. Would you like that?” Sherlock wasn’t used to that kind of things but he quickly nodded. He remembered Greg cooking for him. And Molly.

“Yes, I would. What’s on your mind?” John thought about it for a second.

“What about pasta with salmon and a hearty cheese sauce? You like?” Sherlock unconsciously licked his lips.

“Yes, I like.” He smiled and it looked almost shy. John wondered why. He didn’t seem to be used to many interactions. But he said he worked with the police. But what about friends? He had only mentioned this Greg person and a brother. John just shrugged it off. It didn’t matter. He liked him and he could be his friend if Sherlock wanted him.

“Perfect!” John said smiling.

“I’ll go shopping then. Where is the closest Tesco or whatever?” He asked Sherlock.

“I have no idea. I have never been to a supermarket in my life.” Sherlock answered. John was dumbstruck.

“What? But how do you survive?” He sounded very much surprised.

“Take-away? I also never eat when being on a case.” John’s eyes became big.

“How often are you on a case?” John asked.

“Depends, but normally several days a week.” Sherlock answered.

“But you have to eat!” John was worried by now. No wonder that man was so skinny.

“I can’t think when I am eating. Digesting slows me down.” Sherlock looked serious.

“I don’t understand …” John really looked worried and clueless.

“Just don’t worry. It’s all fine.” Sherlock said smiling and John let it go. They walked back downstairs.

“Well, I need a phone-book then.” John looked around and Sherlock just picked up his computer.

“Let’s ask Google.” He powered it up and typed something.

“So, you don’t have a phone-book?” John asked.

“No, every information is in here, John.” John sighed. He wasn’t good with these things.

“You may need to help me more often.” He looked up and smiled.

“That’s no problem.” He wrote the address on a small piece of paper and handed it over.

“There you are.” John took it and saw the Tesco place written down in a very neat handwriting.

“Thanks, mate.” John put it into his pocket and grabbed his jacket.

“Could you also bring nicotine patches, please?” Sherlock asked.

“Sure thing. Any special brand?” Sherlock shook his head.

“No. Here, take my card. You cook, I pay.” John didn’t take it.

“No, Sherlock. You can’t … You already …” He looked upstairs but Sherlock stood and placed it into his hand.

“Please, John. Take it and buy our supplies. As soon as you have found a new job you will pay, OK? Now go!” He shoved him outside and closed the door. John left shaking his head. He looked at the paper again and walked over to Tesco. It was a smaller one but offered everything he needed. He still had some money left because the ride hadn't been as expensive as he had thought and he hadn't given a tip, so he paid the things he bought for himself with his own money. He needed some stuff for the bathroom, some products as well as his special nosh. He also bought some candles for his room. He liked having candles around. Perhaps Sherlock would like it for downstairs, too? But he wanted to ask before he bought anything. Perhaps they could buy it together? But probably someone like Sherlock would by some fancy candles at Harrods or some such place.  
John smiled and shook his head. He paid everything and put it into bags he carried home. Right before entering his new place, he noticed he hadn’t used his cane.

***

John carried everything into their kitchen and saw Sherlock on the sofa with his fingers steepled under his chin. His eyes were closed.

“What are you doing?” He called over and rummaged through the bags.

“Thinking.” The answer came quickly.

“About what?” John sorted the food into the cupboards and found they needed things to store food in. Then he opened the fridge. Then he stared and swallowed. He closed it again.

“There is a bloody head in the fridge. A severed head. Sherlock?”

“Yes? It’s for an experiment. I am measuring the amount of saliva after death.”

“Whatever! Where did you get it from?” Now Sherlock stood and strode over to look at John’s shopping.

“The morgue where we met. Dr Hooper provides me with body parts.”

“I am not asking …” John shook his head.

“But you are!” Sherlock looked at him and John looked back.

“I am, am I?” John sighed and opened the fridge again.

“I suggest to put him on the lower shelf so I can put our food on top. Is that OK? Because I don’t want to destroy your ongoing experiment.” Sherlock smiled.

“No, it’s OK to be moved. Go ahead!” He kept rummaging through the food.

“You’ve got any gloves?” John asked. Sherlock opened a drawer beneath the sink and offered the box.

“Sure thing. No contamination on my watch!” John took a pair and donned them. Then he rearranged the head in the fridge. Sherlock was very pleased. He kept looking at John’s backside and his eyes roamed over his body. This was the first time ever he showed interest in another man besides his brother. He liked Greg, he really did, but not like that. Greg was a good friend. And Sherlock knew that his brother was interested in him and he had never approached. By now he was glad he hadn't.

Sherlock had been busy taking drugs and things like that. Mycroft had told him he wouldn’t sleep with him until he was clean again. Even though he was clean by now, had his own place and sort of an occupation they hadn’t met. Mycroft very often was away or working long hours. Sherlock missed him a lot because he loved him. So did Mycroft but both men didn’t feel the urge from before anymore. Mycroft too had laid eyes on a man. Since he had met Inspector Gregory Lestrade he was straying from Sherlock, his beloved brother. It was a strange feeling he had never had before. The brothers never talked about it.

Sherlock wondered if he should invite Mycroft and Greg for dinner, too. But tonight, he wanted to be alone with John. He wanted to know more about him. He wanted to ask him again if he would come to jobs with him for Scotland Yard. He had sent an email to Greg already asking him. Greg had allowed it because he couldn’t deny Sherlock.

So now Sherlock stood leaning against the kitchen counter and watched John cleaning the mushrooms. Suddenly John looked up and their eyes met.

“You could help, you know?” Sherlock moved closer.

“I suppose I could, yes.” He took a wooden cutting board and a knife and started to chop them. John watched for a few seconds and saw him working like a machine; accurately, quickly, and efficiently. Amazingly came to this mind, too. His fingers were holding both the mushrooms and the knife. They were very long fingers, the fingers of a musician. John wondered if he was playing an instrument. He hadn’t seen one around but he hadn’t been inside his room yet. And why would he be inside his room anyway? John felt the heat creeping up.

“Like this? John?” Sherlock spoke to him. John’s head came up.

“Sorry, uh. I was … Anyway, yes, exactly like that. Thanks a lot.” John felt his hot face and quickly turned around so he could fill the pot with water and didn’t have to look at Sherlock.  
Sherlock looked at John and wondered what the problem was. He carefully looked down his body and checked his clothes but there was nothing strange or weird. He sighed but only inwards. He had to learn this.

“Would you like a wine with the pasta?” He asked. He had had the impression that John had liked the wine the night before.

“Yes, I do. Sounds good to me.” John smiled and Sherlock didn’t worry anymore. Instead, he went to find a tablecloth and napkins he knew he owned and should have somewhere in here. Mycroft had bought those things for him because he thought he needed to have them. Sherlock didn’t think so back then but now he was glad he had them. He believed John liked these things, neat things. He even found a candle that already stuck in a holder. He blew off the dust and placed it on the table, too. He wished he had a flower but now it was too late. He turned around to see if he could do more but John just shook his head and kept working in the kitchen. So, Sherlock got the bottle of wine and poured it into a decanter.

He rubbed over his arms and looked at the fire-place. Unfortunately, the last time, also the first, he had tried to build a fire he had forgotten to open the air-vent and someone had called the fire brigade. Mycroft had been very angry and forbid to use it. But now he had John. Sherlock was convinced that John knew how to build a fire. So, he just waited for a break to ask him.  
He didn’t have to wait long until John strode by asking:

“Are you cold, mate? Would you like a fire?” Sherlock just nodded and John went on his knees. Sherlock tilted his head. This man was so different from Mycroft but he liked him anyway. Perhaps he needed to talk to his brother about this. He didn’t want Myc to be jealous. He still loved his brother a lot. But John …


	4. Chapter Four

Mycroft hadn’t met Lestrade again after their first meeting. He had wanted to, badly, but he also felt like he was betraying Sherlock. Somehow, he needed his permission.  
Right before he called, he checked the cameras in Sherlock’s flat. He had a look and then a second. Of course, he knew that Sherlock had found himself a flatmate. And of course, he had checked on Dr Watson, actually Captain Watson, very thorough. He believed Sherlock couldn’t have found anyone better. Mycroft was rather convinced that he would be able to rein him in.  
Now he looked at them having dinner. And Sherlock was actually eating it. He had set up the table and it looked like they were getting along well. Mycroft smiled. He wouldn’t call him now because he didn’t want to disturb him.  
But he did call the next day and Sherlock picked up at once.

“Myc, good to hear from you!” Sherlock was happy Myc called.

“Sherlock, how are you? How was dinner?” Myc asked.

“Did you see? Then you should know.” Sherlock answered.

“I actually wanted to talk to you yesterday but it didn’t feel right to call you then.”

“It feels so good, Myc. John really is a great guy.”

“I think so, too. You should know that I approve.”

“What did you really want?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft cleared his throat.

“I wanted to ask for your permission to meet up with Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Sherlock smiled.

“He is sexy, isn’t he? You want to shag him?” Sherlock asked.

“I want that, yes. I also don’t want to betray you and it feels like it if I don’t tell you.”

“It’s all fine. I think I would like to shag Captain Dr Watson. What do you think?”

“Check his browser history and you know what to expect.” Mycroft provided useful information, as ever.

“Very well …” Sherlock smiled.

“You will like it.” Mycroft smiled when saying so. Sherlock could hear it.

“You should know what I like, Myc. And you should know that I still love you. I will always love you. But I also believe we should make our own experiences with other men, good men.”

“I love you, too, brother-dear. I do.”

“Keep me informed, will you?” Sherlock asked.

“You, too.” Sherlock and Mycroft both promised to do so and hung up. Right then John returned with a happy face. Sherlock knew at once he had found a job. It showed on his face. He also was carrying a bottle from a whiskey store. So, he wanted to celebrate.

“Sherlock, you are home. Guess what, I got the job I wanted; the one at the hospital. Isn’t that wonderful? I can pay you back now.” He really looked happy.

“It’s wonderful, it really is. Hopefully they are paying you well enough?” John nodded.

“Yes, there will be a pay-rise after two months if everything works out smoothly.”

“Sounds good to me.” Then John held up the bag.

“I bought us a drink to celebrate. Do you like?” He looked at him.

“I sure do. I think we have some nosh left. And we could order pizza?”

“We can do that.” John really was all happy and placed the bottle on their bar. Then he disappeared upstairs to change into something comfy. Sherlock didn’t change. He really hadn’t a lot of comfy clothes. Again and again, he wondered if he should. It looked really comfortable and why the hell not? He wondered if Myc had comfy clothes. But probably not. He had never seen such things around.  
He shook his head and looked for the folder from the local pizza-dealer. Then he waited for John to ask him what kind of pizza he wanted. Right then John hopped down the stairs clad in old army fatigues and a well-worn t-shirt. He came right up to him and took the folder from his hands. Sherlock just stayed put. He stared at John when he licked his lips and read the offers.

“Number 47 for me, please, with double cheese.” He gave it back and Sherlock nodded already at his mobile. He placed his order and had a little discussion about his extras but they actually knew him so it was all fine.

“Don’t you want to change? I mean pizza stains on your expensive clothes can’t be good, right?” Sherlock shrugged it off.

“I have nothing comfy.” They looked at each other.

“Not an old pair of denims?” Sherlock thought about it.

“Yes, I have.” Suddenly he smiled. There was an old sweater from school. He never got rid of it. He disappeared into his room and shed his clothes. He left the door ajar not thinking about it. John saw his chance and quietly moved the few steps forward stretching his neck. Now he could see a lot of naked skin. Quickly he looked away and just as quickly he adjusted his trousers. God, this man was so hot.

Lucky him, the pizza delivery distracted him from thoughts about a male Snow White and such. He placed the pizza on the counter and got plates. The pizza had been sliced into parts already so John just took the glasses to their table. Sherlock returned just in time. John looked at him. He wore jeans now and a well-worn hoodie. He had socks on, too. He looked so young now, adorable, ready to devour. John swallowed.

“Isn’t that better?” John asked and his voice was a bit on the rough side. Sherlock pulled at his hoodie.

“I think so, yes. Even though I think I look ridiculous.” He sat down.

“No, you don’t. Just the opposite. And really, I think you could wear just anything and it would look great on you.”

“You think?” Sherlock was surprised. No one but Mycroft had ever called him good looking or even beautiful. And he blushed.

“Adorable …” Sherlock looked at John. Now it was John who blushed. He wondered if he had said this out loud.

“Forgive me …” He quickly added but Sherlock shook his head.

“No, it’s nice. I like it. You. I like you. When you say these things, it makes me feel good.” Sherlock almost stuttered.

“Oh …” John wasn’t able to say more but he broadly smiled.

“You know I have never lived with someone. I have only been with my brother. But now it feels really good. I feel really good with you in here.” Sherlock had no idea how to say this right. So, he just looked at John.  
And John was stunned. He hadn’t expected something like this. This was more he could have hoped for.

“I do like you, Sherlock. You are fun to be with. And I also think you are very attractive and beautiful. So, if you are having someone over just let me know. I’ll stay away then.” He shrugged and looked at him. Actually, he only wanted to know if Sherlock had a boyfriend.

“John, if you want to know if I am available, just ask.” Sherlock enjoyed John’s embarrassment.

“Sherlock, mate, I am very sorry. So, do you have a boyfriend?” He looked at him.

“No.” And Sherlock said nothing more. But both men smiled at each other. Sherlock even picked up another slice.

“OK, I will be brutally honest then.” John announced and Sherlock looked up again chewing on the slice.

“Yes?” He barely got it out and almost choked on his piece.

“I want you, Sherlock.” John looked straight into his eyes and Sherlock swallowed the cheesy piece he had sucked on.

“How do you want me, John?” Both men stared at each other.

“I want you to bottom for me.” John quietly said and Sherlock tilted his head a little bit to the left.

“And?” It felt quite a bit unfair since Mycroft had told him about John’s preferences without actually telling him anything but he liked to play.

“I want you helpless.” Sherlock raised a brow.

“Helpless how?” He asked and just looked at John. John had to clear his throat but kept going.

“I want to tie you to your bed. Hands over your head and legs spread wide open. Perhaps I will use a gag. I don’t know yet if you are too loud.” Sherlock grinned a smug smile.

“I was told I am very, very loud. Loud and naughty. But you know; if I am not able to see it always quietens me a lot.” Now it was John’s turn to choke on his pizza.

“It seems we both know what we want.” He sipped his wine and so did Sherlock. For a few minutes, they just looked at each other. Sherlock wondered if he should tell John about Mycroft but then he decided against. Their relationship was incestuous and absolutely inappropriate. Perhaps at a later time but not now.

“Whenever you are ready.” John offered with a wicked smile. Sherlock liked him like this. He normally always looked so harmless but not now. A shiver ran down his spine and he already enjoyed this. And he stood.

“I am more than ready.” John looked at his groin and saw his erection. He licked his lips.

“I see naughty. I still need loud.” He stood and quickly moved around the table. Sherlock stayed seated and just looked up at him. John palmed his face and kissed him all wet and dirty. Sherlock’s fingers were around John's muscular arms and he straightened up.   
After a few minutes of intense kissing, John pulled him up. While shedding their clothes, they somehow made it into Sherlock’s bedroom. John's eyes roamed over Sherlock’s body and he smiled.

“So beautiful.” He licked his lips. Sherlock in return eyed John's body. He really was still in very good shape. He was muscled and a bit tanned. He was so different from what Sherlock’s had experienced and seen before but he did like it a lot.

“So are you.” They looked at each other and Sherlock wasn't sure what John expected of him.

“Do you have any supplies?” John finally asked and the question woke him up.

“Yes, in the box by the bed over there.” He pointed it out. John nodded.

“Turn around and get on your knees.” Sherlock cast a last glance at John who simply raised a brow. He swallowed, turned, and knelt. John watched for a minute but he didn't twitch. Only then he walked over to the box and opened it. There were enough supplies to satisfy him. Them.

In the back of his mind, he still wondered why Sherlock had been so tense when he had touched him for the first time. Now they were doing a scene. Should he be worried about something? Perhaps he simply should be very careful with him, look closely and pay attention to his moves so nothing would go wrong. He chose several items and placed everything on the bed. He took several lengths of rope first and approached Sherlock.

“Stand up, please.” He said and Sherlock stood. He tied his wrists on his lower back. More rope came over his shoulders and around his neck, as well as above and beneath his chest. Sherlock quickly realised that John knew his business as a dom. And he relaxed.

John felt the exact moment Sherlock finally gave in and completely relaxed beneath his hands. With his hands on his shoulders, he pressed down and made him go back on his knees. He gently pecked a kiss on his nape and Sherlock sighed, his head hanging low.

“Since you have already warned me, I will use a gag on you. Open up.” And now the naughty side showed.

“Not yet, I want to...” John's fingers were in his hair at once and pulled him back. His scalp prickled and it hurt just right.

“What was that?” He whispered close to his ears.

“I want...” Sherlock tried again being pressed back against John's muscular thighs.

“You don't want anything. You simply do what I want, do you understand?” Now John hissed into his ear. He grabbed the ball-gag and two fingers of his free hand strongly gripped Sherlock’s jaw forcing it open. A deep groan came out of him when John shoved the gag behind his teeth and buckled it tightly. He had seen several tiny locks in the box and took one. Sherlock already started to drool around the silicone and the sight aroused John some more. His eyes came to rest on his erect cock, his erect leaking cock.

“Are you enjoying yourself, pet?” John asked and Sherlock shot him a ghastly look. John just smiled shaking his head. He took a cock-ring and knelt in front of Sherlock. He reached between his legs and once pulled his balls. Sherlock shouted but it was rather muted. His arousal was gone and John attached the cock-ring that also went around his testicles dividing them in the middle.

“I found quite a lot of things I want to use on you, starting with the nipple-clamps. His thumb rubbed over Sherlock’s nipple and he closed his eyes moaning. He also shivered. John screwed them tightly and flicked them making him groan loudly. He stood and pulled Sherlock up, too.

“Bend over and spread your legs.” What came out of Sherlock sounded a lot like _You wish!_. John just pulled strongly and sat on the bed pulling him over his thighs. He held his legs down and pressed his hand on his back holding him in position. Sherlock’s prick hung between his legs.

“You are misbehaving. You need to be taught a lesson, pet.” Sherlock moved and wiggled and John's hand came down hard.

“Stop that and take it like the good sub you are!” John again hissed and several blows rained down on Sherlock’s plush behind.

Sherlock did enjoy this a lot. His eyes were wide open and he drooled heavily while hanging over John's legs. It felt different from being dominated by his brother Mycroft but it was good. No, it was more than good. His spine tingled, his nipples hurt and so did his jaw. But it was what he wanted, what he needed, what he craved.

Finally, John seemed to be done and Sherlock’s arse was red and hot.

“I advise better behaviour from now on.” John said and Sherlock nodded. He pushed him off his thighs and Sherlock knelt up again.

“And what's that? You have been leaking all over the hardwood.” John shook his head and looked at him.

“And you are drooling, too.” John grinned. His arousal was obvious beneath his trousers. The bulge was big.

“I think it's time to have a closer look at you.” Now he even smirked. Sherlock’s eyes were dark but still, he muttered something from behind the gag and still it didn't sound nice.

“You try to provoke me into using a blindfold on you, am I right? Topping from the bottom, aren't you? I am telling you right now, it won't work with me.” John smiled shaking his head. Now Sherlock looked angry.

"I will teach you patience in another way. Just wait and see.” John rummaged through the box. Sherlock was excited because something new was going to happen.  
John went on his knees behind him and hooked several karabiners into the ropes. He put cuffs around his ankles and used more ropes connecting everything. His long legs were folded underneath him. Sherlock wouldn't be able to get up like this. The strain made him sweat already.  
John moved his palm over his flat stomach and flicked the clamps from behind. Surprisingly he put on gloves and slicked his fingers. He reached between his legs and massaged his hole. Sherlock groaned and twitched but there was nowhere to go. John kept wiggling his finger and Sherlock’s head fell back against his shoulder.  
He finished the fingering and got out of the gloves. He stood and looked at Sherlock. He wasn't yet pleased with everything. Something was still missing.  
He chose thin strips and tied them around his balls and the base of his cock. The strips went between his legs and were connected to the ropes on his back. Now there was a continual strain on his groin. The less he moved the less it hurt.  
To top it he attached weights to the clamps. He made a few steps back and admired his work.   
And then he heard him mutter again. Now it sounded very much like _Why don't you fuck me?_ and John was really surprised.

“You want more? I'll give you more.” At first, he used a magnetic clamp under his nose. At once tears spilt and he once sobbed. Snot began to run out of his nose. Then followed anal beads. The row started with a smaller one and both their size and weight increased. The string was rather long, too. Sherlock’s eyes widened. This thing had almost seemed to be the wickedest thing to be used on him. It was a torture instrument moving the beads in and out of his behind for a longer period of time. And he suspected John to be very, very patient.

John locked eyes with him and he looked serious.

“When I am in front of you and you want to stop, you will rapidly blink. When I can't see your face, you will cross your forefinger with your middle finger. Did you understand what I said?” He asked. Sherlock nodded and at once started to hurt at several places of his body. John smirked and knelt down behind him. He lubed the beads and moved them between his cheeks. Very slowly he started to push and the first bead was sucked inside rather easily. John took his sweet time and one bead after another entered Sherlock’s arse. By now he was sweating and a constant wailing sound came out of him. John was aroused and leaked into his boxers.  
After he had all the beads inside and only the handle reached out of his hole, he stood. He walked several times around Sherlock’s kneeling body. He placed his palm on his head and moved his thumb through his mop of curls. Sherlock closed his eyes and obviously calmed down a lot. John raised a brow and then used both hands to card through his hair and gently scratch over his scalp. Sherlock started to sway and hummed. John recognised he was close to subspace and he smiled. This was just perfect. Plus, he had found the way to make him completely submit to him.  
But he wanted more. He wanted him to safeword because it became too much. But before that happened, he also wanted to fuck him. That's why he let go. Sherlock’s eyes opened at once and he focused back on John. His eyes were blown wide and he looked confused.

“Can you take some more?” John asked. Sherlock slowly nodded. Lots of dried snot and saliva had dried on his chin and he kept drooling. With the ball-gag stuck behind his teeth, he wasn't able to prevent it.

“You told me you can calm down in the dark? So, you like being blindfolded?” Sherlock carefully nodded but it hurt anyway. He groaned and closed his eyes. John flicked his clamps and they shot open again.

“I will put a mask on you to enhance everything. There is a mask in your box but rarely used. I wonder why. If you wouldn't have liked it, you would have thrown it away, am I right? Your partners probably didn't want you hidden beneath it. Well, but you would, wouldn't you? Give me a double-blink for yes.” Sherlock did exactly that.

“I thought so.” John unlocked the buckle and took the ball-gag off. Sherlock’s jaw cracked when he slowly moved his face. He coughed, too.

“I'll get you some water. I don't want to hear your voice.” Sherlock didn't utter a word or even made a sound. John returned with a glass of water. It was cool and he held it before his lips so Sherlock could drink. He emptied the whole thing and exhaled. He even looked thankful.

“Are you ready and willing to proceed?” John asked and Sherlock nodded. He was very excited and it showed. He very much wanted the mask. He loved the feeling when his head was completely covered. There was an extra blindfold attached as well as a gag and even ear-plugs. The mask had laces from the top crisscrossing down.

Sherlock looked expectantly at John who still held the mask between his hands. It was leather and Sherlock felt good already. His cock was still hard and he began to leak more heavily. John stood behind him and pulled the mask over his head. On the way down he pressed the ear-plugs in. He pulled the laces tightly again and again and made a neat bow at the very end. In addition, there also was a buckle and he tightened that one, too. He also used another lock. Next, he adjusted the blindfold until it sat snugly over his eyes. And at last came the gag that was just a ball attached to a thick part of leather covering his mouth. John shoved it between his lips and adjusted the cover. Everything sat tight. The only opening were the holes beneath his nose so he could breathe. John liked that and Sherlock obviously did, too.

***

Sherlock was shut off. His mind calmed down. There was no incoming data, no views of John, no smell but the leather around his head. He clenched his teeth around the soft leather ball that filled his mouth. How he had missed this! But his brother hadn't been fond of it. He had wanted to look at him. He had even tried to put the mask on himself but he wasn't able to enjoy that. He needed to be with someone who made him helpless, tied him up, otherwise this wouldn't work. He had only found out about his kink after he had watched a film on the internet. There had been a scene in which the sub had worn such a mask and was clad in a straightjacket. He had been aroused and horny for ages. Unfortunately, it never happened to him because Mycroft didn't like it. But perhaps John would be able to make him enjoy this, give him the utmost pleasure, and treat him just right.

And suddenly it started. John moved the beads out of his hole, very slowly and one by one. Sherlock groaned and felt his sensitive muscle clench around nothing when the last bead left his body. But there was nothing to worry because John shoved a large plug into him. By the feeling it was the thickest one he owned, meaning it was also his favourite. Soon enough it started to vibrate. The head rotated against his prostate and Sherlock’s body shivered and shook. He was moving too much and the strain increased. His muscles ached, his behind pulsed and the weights under his nipples swung around hurting him even more. Everything was perfect.

John wondered if Sherlock knew he was swaying. Probably not. He also wouldn't know he was wailing. Sometimes even whimpering. John massaged his cock through his trousers and groaned. He also wondered how long it would take that Sherlock needed to piss. He had drank a lot of water and hadn't been to the loo after dinner where they had shared a bottle of wine.  
John had found a set with rods in his box, too. He got the case and knelt in front of him. He took his prick and Sherlock twitched and groaned. He lubed the tip and carefully inserted a rod. The wailing increased and John looked around him and at his hands. But he hadn't crossed his fingers. John took the next size and ended up with a middle-sized rod. He kept moving it in and out and the wailing became louder. Even from behind the mask and gag it was audible. Finally, he secured the tip that ended in a ring being shoved under his foreskin. Sherlock shook and cried and whimpered.

John let go of him and stood. His knees cracked and by now he was thirsty, too. He quickly took the glass he had used for Sherlock and filled it in the bath. He downed the water and felt much better. In mere seconds he was back at his side but neither his moves or sounds had changed. He hadn't noticed being alone.  
He stood behind him and gently removed the ropes leading from his bound arms to his ankles and thighs. Sherlock groaned and his head fell forward. His legs twitched and shook when John gently lowered him down and on his side. He started to massage his left leg for a few minutes and afterwards gave his second leg the same treatment.

He pulled him up and pushed him towards the bed. He made him heel with his legs spread and head down. His arse was up and the plug still tormented him. The weights still dangled from the clamps. John slapped his behind that actually was still a bit reddish. Sherlock groaned and pushed his behind back. It was clear what he wanted and expected. But instead, John knelt behind him and increased the plug's speed. His head came up at once but John pressed him back down slapping him hard. Sherlock whimpered and started to fight against the pressure but John just kept hitting him on his cheeks until he stopped moving.

He carefully pulled out the plug and lined up. He pushed into him in one go and kept holding him down. John felt Sherlock being rather tight even though he had used beads and the plug, so he hadn't had sex for some time. John grabbed the ropes on his back and pulled him back while pushing into him. He roughly fucked him and his cock rubbed over his prostate. The wailing from behind the mask became louder and he also cried by now. John could hear him sob. That was the last thing John needed to come. He yelled while shooting his cum into Sherlock’s body who shook and trembled beneath him. The moment he was done Sherlock crossed his fingers. At once John shook his head to get clear and took the tiny key from the nightstand to unlock the mask's buckle. He started to untie the laces. He pulled it off his head and Sherlock deeply inhaled after the gag was gone.

“My cock explodes...” He roughly whispered. John placed him on his back and undid the rod and ring. Sherlock sobbed and his eyes were closed.

“Bathroom, please...” He barely got out the words. John pulled him up and helped him. But at first Sherlock needed to piss but couldn't. John just pressed on his bladder and his knees buckled. John had to hold him, literally, and he relaxed against him. And he pissed.   
He still was tied around his arms and chest. John cleaned his cock after he was done and washed his hands leaning Sherlock against the tiles. Then he led him back to bed. At once he turned his head as if looking for John and presented his behind. He begged. John was hard again and it surprised him.  
He owed it Sherlock to let him come. He had been fantastic. So, John just started to rut for a minute or two against his body getting his cock back up again. He held him by his hips and lined up. He pushed into him and fucked him into oblivion. He pushed back and the weights dangled wildly.  
John swallowed and felt a bit guilty when he reached around and ripped off the clamps. Again, with the screaming. Now he pushed him on his front and Sherlock’s feet hammered on the mattress and he also started to push back and rut against the mattress trying to orgasm. He must be in pain by now.  
Again, John felt his balls pull up. Underneath him, Sherlock clenched around him and now they both came. Sherlock’s head was turned to the side. John reached up to undo the ropes around him. They came off quickly. The last item to be taken away was the clamp from his nose.

John looked at him not knowing what he might want now. Perhaps he wanted to be left alone. Or a drink. Or whatever. Sherlock looked back at him and finally, a big smile came up, a big lazy smile. He also reached out for him.

“Stay with me, please?” He roughly asked. John relaxed and took his hand.

“I'll need the bath first. And water. But I'll be right back.” He once pressed his hand and stood. He quickly used the loo and washed his hands. He made a beeline through the kitchen and brought water and wine on a whim. Sherlock eyed the wine and sat up against the headrest. He pulled a face and his arms shook a bit.

“I think I'll give you a massage first.” And he did exactly that until Sherlock purred with his eyes closed. Only then they drank. Sherlock had the wine and John drank water. John thoughtfully looked at Sherlock. He wondered why he had been so tight. He had a box full of toys and they looked barely used. On the other hand, he knew what he wanted.

“You have questions.” Sherlock suddenly said and John looked a bit guilty because he hadn't paid attention.

“Actually, yes. I am sorry. Something bothers me and I just need to ask. You know, at first you tensed when I touched your arm and I thought you might have had bad experiences. But tonight, we had a wonderful time. You knew what you wanted and pointed the way for me. You gave yourself over to me. You fully submitted and it was beautiful.” John shrugged and helplessly looked at Sherlock.

“You are right to feel bothered. There surely is something. You felt how tight I was and it didn't correspond with my box full of toys. You know, I only had sex with one person in my life. You are the second man. I really don't know how to tell you without you run screaming.” Sherlock sighed and shook his head. John carefully reached out for him. He smiled and shook his head.

“I won't scream. I promise to listen to you. I want to understand. Tell me about your one and only. Tell me why you have chosen me. Make me understand.” He pressed his hand. Sherlock looked a bit shaken and quickly had another sip of his wine. He placed the glass back on the nightstand to get closer to John. John let go of his water, too, and took him into his arms. He held him and began to listen to Sherlock’s narration.

***

Sherlock was feeling comfortable in John's embrace while telling his story. After he had ended, he waited. Soon he became uncomfortable and tried to move away. But John's arms instantly tightened around him.

“Say something, please?” Sherlock whispered.

“It surely explains everything.” John whispered, too. Sherlock relaxed a little bit because his voice didn't sound disgusted.

“I could understand if you were disappointed. You are a good man who surely wants nothing to do with incestuous brothers or drugs or weirdos...” Sherlock whispered. John's grip tightened even more.

“Stop talking bullshit. I am neither disappointed or disgusted. Everyone has a history and yours is just special. I won't judge you. I am simply happy I am here with you. You have chosen me and I still look at us as if I was outside.” Now Sherlock tried to stare into his eyes and wriggled free.

“I never had feelings for anybody else besides my brother. I still love him very much. But our paths went different ways. He also has feelings for another man. We already spoke about that and the urge we felt before is somehow gone. We want the other to be happy.”

“Would you like your brother to have a look at my army-file? Or talk to me?” John wondered. Sherlock smiled.

“He already did that, I am sure.” John opened his mouth as if to say something but then didn't. Sherlock smiled and pursed his lips. His neck was strained and it made John quietly laugh. He lowered his head and kissed him. Sherlock closed his eyes and moaned. John snogged his face off and Sherlock melted beneath him. His spine began to tingle again and he softly groaned moving his hands over John's body. He quietly laughed.

“Stop that. I am not a young man anymore.” Sherlock laughed, too.

“Then I just need to get naughty.” He grinned and started to rut against his leg.

“Oi, slut. That is naughty and it will have dire consequences!” John threw him on his front and straddled him holding his hands on his lower back. His long legs flopped behind him and he tried to throw him off. John just laughed and his grip lessened when Sherlock slumped a bit.

“Just give up.” John said all smile and got surprised the next moment. It took two seconds and Sherlock was on top.

“My brother taught me self-defence and sometimes it comes in handy.” He pecked a kiss on John's nape and let go. He turned on his back and looked up.

“You are amazing.” John said and Sherlock preened. Then he slowly reached behind his back and took John's cock. His eyes widened and swallowed. He kept staring up at Sherlock who gently pulled it and pressed his long fingers around the hot flesh. When he finally was pleased, he moved in position and lowered his body until it had fully disappeared into his behind.

“You will be the death of me...” John groaned. Sherlock sped up and also clenched around him. He rode him for minutes and extended everything just sitting on top of him without moving at all. John played along and didn't push. This was quite the experience. It was new and exciting. The only thing he did was lifting his arms. Sherlock took his hands and entangled their fingers. He moved back down and held them on the pillow beside John's head. Only then he started to move again.

“Tell me you are enjoying this...” Sherlock roughly whispered.

“Can't you feel how much I am enjoying this right now?” John replied.

“I need to hear you...” Sherlock said and roughly fucked himself on John's cock. It made him groan loudly. His balls pulled up and he came for the second time. Slowly Sherlock lifted his body and it slipped out. Cum ran out of his arse when he moved back down on his stomach and he let go of John's hands. His cock was hard and erect leaking on John's chest. He wanted to take it to get off, too, but John was faster. He grabbed his cheeks and shoved him forward. His head came up and he sucked his cock inside.  
Sherlock screamed and just stared down. The feeling was intense and he fell forward leaning on his arms. He shook and trembled and he started to fuck into John's mouth. He had never done such a thing before and it all felt like a dream. A fucking good dream.

He came screaming and filled John's mouth and throat. John couldn't but choke on the masses that invaded his mouth. Sherlock pulled out at once and John came up coughing. He also belched once and very loud. Sherlock was worried and pulled him up into a sitting position leaning against the headrest. He handed him the tissue box and afterwards the water. John greedily drank.

“Are you OK?” Sherlock quietly asked. John nodded.

“Yes, I am more than OK. You are the most amazing and wonderful man in the whole world.” He admiringly looked at him and Sherlock looked less tense. He even started to yawn and quickly covered his mouth.

“No, I am tired, too. Let's try to sleep for a few remaining hours.” John suggested but then sighed and rolled out of bed.

“Don't you want to stay with me?” Sherlock looked actually shocked. John turned around again.

“What? Yes, of course, I want to stay with you. But we need to clean ourselves up or we will stick to each other overnight. We should also change your bedding.” Sherlock looked down his body and over the sheets. Then he rolled out of bed, too, and collected fresh linen. John in the meantime cleaned up and brought a warm, wet towel for Sherlock. He just stood there and spread his arms and legs. John grinned and wiped him clean returning the towel. He also took over and changed the bedding because Sherlock couldn't be bothered. He sat on his deck chair and drank from the wine.

“I need my mobile to get up in time. Don't fall asleep without me.” John smiled and went into the living room. He set up the alarm and placed it on the nightstand. Sherlock lifted up the blanket and John moved up close. He was asleep in seconds and so was Sherlock.


	5. Chapter Five

John woke the next morning and felt completely exhausted. He forced his eyes to open and reached out for his mobile that kept humming and vibrating on the nightstand.  
Sherlock was all over him, long limbs around his body. He was fast asleep and didn't wake when John disentangled his body. He quickly showered and dressed for work. He brewed coffee and prepared some sandwiches. He had a last look into the bedroom but Sherlock was still sleeping. He gently pecked a kiss on his forehead and left him a note.

***

It took Sherlock several more hours until he finally woke. He felt around but the mattress was cold already. He sat up and rubbed over his eyes. John was gone. Why was John gone? Then he remembered. He had to go to work. He snorted. How pedestrian and tedious. Then he sighed.

He showered and dressed for the day. He found the note on the kitchen counter and had to smile. He wondered what he should do now. At first, he checked his mobile but there weren't any texts or mails for him. He pulled a face but then remembered the files he hadn't yet worked on. He owed it to Greg. So, he sat down in his armchair and started to work.  
He needed a few hours until he was done. Most of the time he used up for writing neat notes that he stuck into the folders to explain his solution. Actually, the notes explained the whole way his thoughts had taken, his deductions and everything.  
Next, he sent a text to Lestrade.

_“I have solved your cold cases.”  
SH_

It took Greg only a minute to reply.

_“I am coming over. See you in a few.  
GL_

Sherlock wanted to make a good impression and let his eyes wander around. But everything was neat and tidy. He was a bit proud of himself.  
Greg really needed only a short period of time to arrive. Sherlock heard him climb up the stairs and expectantly looked at the door. There was a knock and he called out for him to enter.

“Sherlock, hey. Looking great!” Greg smiled brightly and dropped his briefcase and jacket.

“So do you. Have you been meeting my brother?” He innocently asked and made him blush. But then he glared.

“You know, I actually did. And you? Myc said something about your flatmate?” Both men stared at each other.

“I didn't invite you over to be mean to you, Lestrade. I am just interested in both you and my brother.” Sherlock said retreating a bit. Greg kept looking at him and then smiled.

“He invited me into his club, I told you about it. We had dinner and I openly told him that I didn't like the place. I liked the food, though.” He grinned and Sherlock was surprised.

“What did he say?” He curiously asked.

“Not much at the beginning. He seemed to be confused. So, I suggested we change places and invited him to my place.” Greg shrugged.

“And?” Sherlock was intrigued. His brother, his dominant brother, had given in. For Greg. That meant something.

“He stared at me but finally stood. He came along and sat on my sofa like a rock, unmoving and cold. I asked him why he invited me and why he followed me. Only then he looked, really looked, at me and told me that he liked me, that he never had another man but you. He told me the truth, Sherlock.” Now Sherlock had to sit down. He swallowed and cast his eyes.

“Look at me, please?” Greg said and Sherlock carefully did.

“I am not shocked. I am here right now. It surely is not common behaviour but you didn't hurt anyone. You love each other. But now there are new people in the mix. Interests change. That's nothing bad.”

“I am glad you accept it.” Sherlock said and Greg grinned.

“Yes, what about John? Tell me!” Greg didn't even look at the files Sherlock was still holding in his hands. Sherlock explained how he had met him and offered him the flat-share. He proudly told him about the room upstairs and what he'd done with it. Finally, it came to their first night, last night. Sherlock sighed.

“It was great. John is a great dominant. He is both hard and rough as well as tender and caring. He is totally different from Mycroft. And Mycroft is the only one I can compare with. I had no idea what would happen, what could happen, and I just showed him my box with all the toys.”

“And where is he now?” Greg wanted to know.

“He is a doctor and found himself a job at a hospital. He is at work now.” Sherlock sounded proud.

“Mycroft said something about a Captain in the army?” Greg sounded a bit confused.

“He is both a doctor and a soldier. He is an army-doctor.” Even more proud.

“Sounds good to me. But now you are worried about how he would react when hearing about you and Myc.”

“Oh, I already explained our relationship to him. He reacted rather cool. He wasn't even shocked or disgusted.” Greg shook his head.

“He seems to be an intelligent man. I don't think he will run screaming, no matter what you will come up with.” They looked at each other.

“Come on, Sherlock. Tell me about the files. I'll wait with you until he comes home. I am curious to meet him.” A small smile was on Sherlock’s lips and he slowly nodded.

“Yes, that would be most kind of you, Detective Inspector.” Both men sat down on the hardwood and soon all the files were on the floor, too. Sherlock started to explain the solution to every single crime in those folders.

***

Several hours later John climbed up the stairs and opened the door. Sherlock and Greg were still on the hardwood but almost finished.  
John pushed open the door and just looked at the scene in front of him. Sherlock at once looked up and beamed at him. It appeased John just a little bit. He slowly closed the door and shed his jacket. His bag landed on the floor by the door. Sherlock had stood in the meantime and didn't know if he should approach and kiss him or not. Greg saw his dilemma and stood. He approached John reaching out his hand.

“Hi, I am DI Greg Lestrade. I am with Sherlock’s brother. We have been solving cold cases.” John relaxed a bit and shook his hand.

“John Watson, hi.”

“I solved the cold cases.” Sherlock said and both Greg and John looked at him with raised eyebrows. John just shook his head and offered something to drink.

“I am sorry if I am intruding but I was just curious to meet you, John.” Greg sipped from his beer that John had brought.

“You are here because you are worried about him. That's fine. Sherlock has told me about you. He has also told me everything else. I assume you know about everything else, as well?” Greg just nodded.

“Yes, I do. I am with his brother now meaning everybody knows about everything. You haven't yet met him, have you?” Greg asked.

“No, I haven't had the pleasure.” Sherlock snorted.

“Sherlock, please.” Greg chided and Sherlock turned away.

“We should have dinner together.” Greg suggested and John nodded.

“Why don't you just ask him if he wants to watch us?” Sherlock asked.

“What?” John exclaimed and Greg just shook his head.

“I will arrange a dinner date. Your place, Sherlock, since you were a brat. Only if it's OK with you, John.” He looked at him but John grinned.

“Sure, fine. We will cook something nice. Just let me know when and we'll be ready.”

“Great. I'll be gone.” He picked up all the folders and stowed them in his briefcase. He placed the empty bottle on the kitchen counter.

“See you, Sherlock. John.” They parted and John closed the door. Sherlock wouldn't look at him.

“What's wrong, mate?” John came up to him but Sherlock turned away.

“You were ganging up against me.” He said accusingly.

“Excuse me? Your behaviour right now wasn't very nice. Greg only wanted to make sure you are OK. I think that's very nice. And I do look forward to meeting your brother.” Now Sherlock turned around.

“You might just want to teach me proper behaviour until my brother arrives for dinner.” He almost hissed out the words. John changed his stance and glared at him.

“Perhaps a real good spanking is what you need right now. You are a right brat!” John sounded serious.

“I haven't done anything wrong!” Sherlock loudly stated.

“You are misbehaving!” John clearly said. Sherlock didn't react but stuck out his tongue.

“Fine. That's it. Just accept my dominance over you right now.” John sounded angry.

“And if not?” Sherlock's voice leaked acid.

“Then you won't get away with a simple spanking.” John threatened. Sherlock's eyes slanted.

“Surprise me!” He challenged and John just accepted.


	6. Chapter Six

John was after Sherlock in a second. He overpowered him quickly and Sherlock stood no chance against him even though he tried everything he had been taught. But John was a trained close-combat fighter and last time he only got surprised.   
Only a few minutes later John had tied his wrists on his lower back. Sherlock hissed insults but John just dragged him into their bedroom. Sherlock's scalp prickled and burnt because John dragged him along by strands of his hair. It brought tears to his eyes. John threw him on the bed and shoved a ball-gag behind his teeth. He pulled ropes around his arms and tied them to the sides of the bed.  
Sherlock kept kicking his legs but John didn't mind because he sat on his upper thighs. He reached beneath him and opened his belt and trousers. He pulled them down together with his boxers and they ended up just over his behind. Only then he tied his ankles and knees and connected these to the sides, too.

“I really don't know what got into you. But it has to stop, do you understand?” Sherlock threw his head up and shouted abuse from behind the gag. John opened the box to find something to punish him with. There was a flogger, a paddle, and a riding-crop. John was angry and he knew better than to use the riding-crop. He chose the paddle.

“See this?” He held it up and Sherlock glared.

“Ten.” John just said and Sherlock's eyes widened. John dished out the ten and dropped the paddle. Sherlock's behind was hot and dark red. They locked eyes but he also still glared and muttered something a bit not good.  
John took the flogger and worked it all over his back. It would smart even with his clothes on. John just used more strength than he normally would. Sherlock calmed down just a little bit.  
Only then John remembered the quiet and the blindfold. He used a black piece of fabric from the box and tied it over his eyes. Sherlock's body slumped at once.

John decided he would just leave him for a bit. The only thing he did was to rub some ointment on his behind. Everything else had been covered. He also felt his pulse and it was slow but fine. He watched him for a bit until he saw he had fallen asleep.  
He still had to learn a lot about Sherlock. He knew that now. He sighed and worried his lips while taking the ropes off of him. He only got off his shoes and socks and pulled the blanket over him. The last item he took off was the ball-gag but he left the blindfold. It wouldn't cause any harm. He didn't wake.  
John left for his room upstairs after having used the bath. 

***

Sherlock only slept for about an hour. He felt the fabric over his eyes and quickly pulled it off. He carefully turned around and hissed because his behind hurt. Then he remembered. John had paddled him. John had dished out a punishment because he had been a brat.  
Sherlock still didn't think he was. He felt he had been mistreated. It should be his decision, too, to invite people for dinner. And it didn't matter at all if it was his brother plus one. Also, it shouldn't matter that he liked the idea actually. This now was simply behaviour related to strange feelings, to things he didn't understand. All of this had somehow become too much for Sherlock. But he wouldn't want to admit it to himself.  
If John wanted to have dinner with his brother and Greg, then they would have dinner. Sherlock would attend but wouldn't participate. He was thankful for his flat and everything his brother had provided but what had just happened had been too much.

Sherlock was still angry and upset. He almost fell when he stood with his trousers and boxers still around his legs. Angrily he kicked his clothes into the depths of his room. He took a shower and got dressed. He wanted to go out, do something at Bart’s or wherever. There was always something to experiment on. He looked into the mirror and saw his impeccable self. He picked up his wallet and mobile and stepped into the living room. He could hear John upstairs but didn't call out because he was sure that John had already heard him. And right he was. The door upstairs opened and he quickly came down the stairs.

“Sherlock, we need to...” John tried to say something but got interrupted. Sherlock shook his head and got his coat.

“No, we don't need to do anything. I'll be back later.” His eyes burnt but he turned away and left 221B. John stared at the closed door and swallowed. He looked out of the window and saw Sherlock disappear by cab. John had a bad feeling. Had he made a mistake? Had he been too hard on him? But it had looked as if Sherlock was topping from the bottom. And not only that, but he had also provoked him.  
John closed his eyes thinking. He realised Sherlock also hadn't safeworded. Why not?  
He desperately wanted, needed, to talk to him but now he was gone.

***

Sherlock didn't go to Bart’s. Instead, his mind led him over into an area of London he knew from before. Was this the solution? A several percent solution? He looked around and finally found what he was looking for. A dealer approached him and raised a brow. Sherlock pushed several notes into his greasy hands and got two bags with cocaine. He stuffed them into his coat and left without a word.

Now he only needed a place to use. He couldn't go home because of John. He couldn't go and see his brother because he would give him a lot more than John had done today. Again, he swallowed and felt his abused behind.

He walked and walked without an idea where to go. He finally ended up in front of Bart’s. It was dark and he entered the morgue unseen through the back. He shed his coat and prepared the cocaine. In here were all the supplies he needed to calm his disturbed mind. He used up the first bag and closed his eyes when pressing down. The reaction was quick. His mind became quiet and he smiled. He opened a drawer that was luckily not occupied by a well-cooled corpse and rolled out the stretcher. He climbed up grinning and placed himself on top of it. He still grinned when he closed his eyes.

***

John was worried because Sherlock wasn't home yet. It was late already, night time, and John didn't know what to do. Could he call his brother or Greg? He was clueless. He had tried to call him several times and also sent texts. He never got a reply. Sherlock had disappeared.  
Finally, he dared and called Mycroft even though it was late. He picked up rather quickly so he still must have been awake.

“Dr Watson, what is the matter at this hour?” He asked.

“It's Sherlock. After Greg was gone, we had a fight. I might have overreacted but I thought I had to give him a good thrashing. He slept for a bit afterwards but then he just left. That was hours ago and he hasn't come home yet. I am worried he might do something stupid.” John sounded very worried.

“Let me check his chip. Stay on the line, please.” He placed the mobile on a surface and John was able to hear some typing. He wondered why he wasn't offered to talk to Greg but he also didn't want to intrude. Perhaps he was busy being tied up? A lopsided smile appeared on John's face thinking about what he might have interrupted.

“John? You need to leave at once. He is at Bart’s but before he has been somewhere a bit not good, probably buying drugs. Go and look for him and let me know at once when you have found him or need help.” John felt sick.

“I am on my way. Thanks, Mycroft.” John ended the call and grabbed his jacket, mobile, wallet, and keys. He raced downstairs and didn't even try to stop a cab. Only Sherlock was able to make a cab appear out of nothing. He hurried down the escalator at Baker Street tube station and rode over to Bart’s. He also knew the back entrance because Sherlock had told him about. He followed the signs leading him downstairs and into the morgue.  
A light was on in there and John dashed inside. His eyes fell on the dark coat on the ground.

“Sherlock?” He called out but there was no answer. John switched on the lights overhead and only then saw the body on the stretcher.

“Oh, God!” He hurried up to him and at once his fingers were on his neck feeling for his pulse. It was very, very weak. John found his rolled-up sleeve and the fresh puncture mark. He got his mobile and called Mycroft. He was rather sure his brother didn't want Sherlock to be treated in a regular hospital.

“Yes, John?” He answered at once.

“I have found him. He has used and he is unconscious on a slab at the morgue at Bart’s. What do you want me to do?” John's free hand rested on Sherlock's forehead. It was clammy and cold.

“Stay with him. I'll send private paramedics. They will let you know where he is brought to. Could you please pack a few things for him and get there? I will be coming, too, and bring Gregory, as well. See you soon, John.”  
The paramedics only needed ten minutes and took Sherlock away. John picked up his coat and rode back to Baker Street. He packed a bag for Sherlock and actually called for a cab. He didn't mind the money because it would be quite the ride to the private hospital. He had been given the address by one of the paramedics and now looked forward to get there.

The black sedan pulled up right after his cab and John met Mycroft and Greg by the entrance. Greg looked extremely worried and angry but it wasn't directed at John. Mycroft showed no emotion but he was a Holmes. John felt only coldness seeping through his body. Greg snatched the bag from John and entered Sherlock's room. Mycroft and John still stood outside.

“It's not your fault, John. He was behaving like a brat, I agree. Probably he had emotions he couldn't cope with. He felt bad about something.”

“But why didn't he talk to me? He only dished out harsh words and provoked me into taking action.”

“And you let yourself be provoked and gave him a proper thrashing.” John just nodded.

“He felt mistreated. Something was wrong and he couldn't work it out. And while working on a problem his brain just keeps swirling and he isn't able to rest. Hence the drugs.” Mycroft tried to explain.

“Hence the drugs.” John closed his eyes.

“Did he fall asleep after?” Mycroft asked.

“Not for long.” John replied. Mycroft thoughtfully hummed.

“It wasn't enough then. Whenever he really needed to calm down his mind, I tied him up and hung him freely. And only then I gave him the pleasure of the mask. Suspension was the secret. I was his drug. I should have told you.”

“I should have been more insistent. I sensed something was wrong but I didn't follow up.”

“Gregory is talking to him right now. He has been in there long enough to know he is awake.”

“Why don't you go in?” Mycroft shook his head.

“No, he sees me as a person ruling over his life. It's actually true, of course, but I only ever meant well. Gregory is his first and best friend. He will get through to him. He will make him understand.” Mycroft was convinced and it lessened John's worries.

***

Greg had taken the bag and entered Sherlock's room. He dropped it by the bed and pulled a chair close. He looked at Sherlock who was cuffed to the bed. Several tubes led into his body and he wore an oxygen mask. His eyes were closed. Slowly he reached out for his hand and once pressed. Sherlock pressed back. So, he was awake already.  
He murmured something from below the mask and Greg carefully took it away. Now he opened his eyes and looked up at Greg. Tears were filling his eyes. Greg moved his hair off his face.

“Do you need anything?” Greg asked. Sherlock slowly shook his head.

“John is very worried about you. He is right outside with your brother.” Now the tears spilt.

“Talk to me, Sherlock. Try to explain your actions.” Greg insisted and kept holding his hand.

“I felt like not being important in my own flat. You were talking about dinner and I wasn't asked what I wanted.”

“So, you just acted like a brat.”

“I fought but you didn't understand. My anger flared and John acted after it.”

“You could have safeworded, you know?” Greg said.

“Yes, I could but I hoped it would work. Like it always did with Mycroft. But it didn't.”

“No, it didn't because John couldn't know about what you need when being in such a state.” Greg sounded serious.

“I took the beating anyway and I did fall asleep. But it wasn't enough. My brain was torturing me because I wasn't able to understand.”

“And you looked for the only solution left.” Sherlock just nodded and kept crying openly now. The cuffs were clinking against the metal and Greg didn't think they were needed. He opened the nightstand and found the keys. He unlocked them and hugged Sherlock who hugged him back.

“Would you like to see John now?” But Sherlock shook his head.

“No, I can't face him. I can't look at him because I only see his feelings. He will be disappointed. He is only here because he thinks...” Sherlock didn't finish but blew his nose.

“John is here because he loves you. He is very worried but he isn't angry or disappointed. He just doesn't understand.”

“Who told him I was here?” Sherlock asked.

“John called Myc after you weren't coming home. Myc tracked you and sent John to Bart’s where he found you on a stretcher drugged to the brim. He still was pale as death when we met him here.”

“I don't know what to say to him...” Sherlock looked close to panic.

“Just don't deny him coming in to see you. I will wait outside with your brother. Of course, he wants to see you, too. But now please meet John.” Greg looked into his eyes and finally, Sherlock nodded.  
Greg smiled and stood. He opened the door and said a few words. John came inside and closed the door. He came up and stood by his bed. Sherlock didn't look into his eyes but at a spot on his forehead.  
John sensed he wasn't ready yet and picked up the folder by the bed. He read through it and paled considerably. Sherlock had almost died last night but was stable again. He was strong. Carefully he replaced the documents and walked closer. He just slumped on the edge and took his hand between his.

“You can't do this to me.” He quietly said. Sherlock just kept looking.

“I need you to talk to me. I can't understand or interpret your behaviour if you don't. I don't want to lose you.”

“I provoked you into action because I believed it would help. I didn't safeword because I waited for the effect of the punishment but it never happened. It's not your fault. You couldn't possibly have known. I turned to the only other thing I could be sure of would help me calm.” Sherlock cleared his throat and John stood. He opened a bottle and poured him water. He carefully handed over the cup. Sherlock drank. John didn't sit down again. He felt insecure and didn't want to crowd Sherlock.

“Mycroft told me about the suspension and the mask. If it really helps you in these situations, I will happily build us a system. Wherever and however you want it.” John again tried to catch his eyes and this time it worked.

“Really?” Sherlock looked up and finally, John was able to see all the pain and hurt.

“Yes, really.” He carefully made a step forward but Sherlock pointed on his bed.

“Come over here, please.” Now John was quick. He also dared to reach out and take his hand. Sherlock looked at their hands together on the mattress.

“I love you. I really do. And because I do, I never want to lose you again. But sometimes I just don't understand interactions. I can't work it out and I need someone to explain or guide me through it. Mycroft always did that in one way or another. He can teach you everything you need to know about me, about calming me down.” John swallowed.

“I will listen to everything he has to say.” John was serious about it.

“It probably needs more than listening.” Sherlock carefully explained.

“Are you telling me to watch the both of you in a scene?” John stared at him.

“It won't be a real scene, just a lesson. And Greg could be there, too? I don't know what else we could do.”

“I understand. I will do it. I would do anything for you, Sherlock.” John kissed his palm and Sherlock smiled.

“I am very, very tired...” His eyes drooped and he fell asleep.

***

The darkness was everywhere around Sherlock. The leather snugly covered his head. The gag completely filled his mouth. Plugs were inside his ears and white noise calmed his mind. Ropes were everywhere and held him in position. Fine strings were tied around his nipples. A leather harness was buckled tightly around his cock and balls. Inside his arse stuck a thick plug that sent gentle pulses through his behind. Every few minutes his body was pushed and he swung around.

John was in awe. Sherlock had entered subspace very quickly. He watched Mycroft handle his brother with the utmost care. John never touched him that day. 

He was here to watch.


End file.
